In the Rough
by KamikazeCreamPuff
Summary: "But this is starting to sound like a quest! Quests are such a pain, Alice, they really are. All horseback and food rations and traveling in groups and no truly hot tea, with significantly less sex against trees." A/H, J/D
1. Chapter 1

..

It all began one day, just like yesterday.

One day, just like yesterday, Alice returned to the apartment for an hour's lunch between classes. And that day, just like yesterday, Hatter met her there, also on his lunch break from the upscale teashop he ran in the business district.

And that day, just like yesterday, she and Hatter both made themselves sandwiches in the kitchen, standing side-by-side, passing each other the mustard and meat and cheese like it was a well-orchestrated routine, which it was, always ending with the shrill note of the tea kettle.

And if today were just like yesterday, Alice would have taken her sandwich to the couch with Hatter, and they would have sat all curled up together with their sandwiches and they would have talked about anything interesting that had happened that day. Or maybe they would have talked about nothing in particular at all.

But today wasn't like yesterday, or the yesterday before that, or the yesterday before _that_. Because Alice was tired of yesterday.

"Hatter," she said instead, and poked him with her foot. "I'm bored."

"Well," Hatter said, taking a huge bite out of his roast beef and pickle and not understanding at _all _what she was trying to say, "What do you want to do?"

With the tip of one finger, she delicately wiped mustard from one corner of her mouth. "I want to go to Wonderland."

Hatter coughed, spraying half-chewed pickle all over the coffee table. He wiped his mouth and swallowed hurriedly as Alice rolled her eyes and calmly stood up to get a napkin or something.

"You _what?_" Hatter asked once he'd regained speech and she'd calmly started wiping off the table. "'I've had enough Wonderland for a lifetime', you say, that's what you tell me, and then, what, ten months later you're all 'I'm bored and want to go _back_'?" He looked at her dubiously, wiping reflexively at his chin. "What's wrong?"

Alice sighed and flumped against the back of the couch. "I don't know, it's just... all that rushing around in Wonderland, and the newness of it all, the – well, not to coin a phrase or anything, but the _wonder_ of it, I suppose— and then I come back here and it's the same routine every day. It's more wonderful now because you're in it, of course, but it's just not the same. As Wonderland, I mean. It's the same as _my_ world, obviously, but—" She'd gotten herself a little tangled in this conversation, and unable to verbalize a decent way out, just gave up and stopped talking.

Alice had envisioned many possible reactions to this announcement – worst case scenario, she expected him to argue, or she expected him to be hurt that she would want something different after he gave up so much for her. Best case scenario, she thought he might...

"…Oh, thank god." Hatter said with a lopsided grin. "Me too."

Alice felt a smile work its way across her face. She should have known. "…Really?"

"Cotton cozy," he responded, which was something he said now and again that Alice figured mostly meant yes.

Suddenly, Alice felt such an intense rush of excitement and relief and _rightness_ with this man that she swung her knee across his lap so that she could straddle him, placing her hands on either side of his face for a kiss. He hummed appreciatively and settled his hands on her waist, and they stayed like that for several minutes.

"_But,"_ he said once they had broken for air, pointing a finger in her face, "Don't forget that you're mad as a badger, you can't lie to save your life, and you've got no sense of self-preservation to boot, so if we're going to go, you've got to let me get my good hat first because _I'm_ not leaving without it and _you're_ sure as hell not going by yourself!"

He had moved Alice off his lap by this point and was standing up, grinning like a kid at Christmas and no doubt ready to grab his hat and run out the door. Laughing, Alice grabbed his arm and dragged him back down on the sofa. "We can't go now, you idiot! I'm _not_ doing this all in a rush like last time!"

"Oh really?" he asked, and his smile was blinding, teasing. "How did you do it last time? Because however we do this, it has to end with you standing in front of me again—" he kissed her shoulder – "dripping—" he kissed her collarbone – "wet." He kissed her quickly on the lips and snickered mischievously, ignoring her light slap on his arm and tucking her into his side.

"Well," Alice began. "for starters, I'll want to be wearing better shoes this time. And bring some changes of clothes. And a towel! I'm never traveling without a towel again."

"Good plan," Hatter said, nodding sagely. "But extra clothes? How long are you planning on staying?"

Alice looked at him in surprise. "I mean, a couple of weeks over there is an hour here, isn't it? We could be there for a month, easy. I'll want more clothes."

"Alice," Hatter said with the air of someone enjoying themselves immensely, "I don't often get a chance to tell you this now that we're living together and you can throw me over your shoulder in ten seconds whenever you feel like, so I'm going to savor this moment." Hatter bounced ever-so-slightly in his seat, took a deep breath and grinned. "You are totally, completely wrong."

She blinked. "What?"

"See, that's just like you," he continued, running an idle hand through her hair with an unbearably smug look on his face. "You take one little jaunt through the Glass, topple the Red Queen, save the world, fall in love with a man in a devastatingly handsome porkpie hat, and you think you know everything."

"But—"

"It was because our worlds weren't connected for most of your trip. Of course Wonderland was moving at its own jolly pace, it wasn't leashed anymore. As long as the Looking Glass is working properly, both worlds move at the same rate. I mean, think about the Oysters. You heard how often the Hearts had to replenish their supply to keep the Casino working properly – about a hundred per week, at least! There's no way, what, a hundred, two hundred Oysters could be disappearing every hour, and no one noticing?" He shook his head. "The Glass would be discovered for sure."

"Wait." She placed a hand on his arm, bringing his attention away from her hair running through his fingers. "You're serious? You mean we could even visit Charlie? He'd still be alive?"

He grinned. "You know what, you crazy thing," he said, "Let's go tonight, right after work. Go!" he said, shooing in the direction of their bedroom. "Go, pack, do whatever it is you need to do."

Alice paused. Knowing that everything would be (almost) just as they left it had changed things somewhat. Her cheery mood was suddenly struck with a wave of suspicion. It was silly, old ghosts coming back to haunt her like this, and _she_ had brought up the whole crazy thing in the first place, not him, but… old fears still niggled at the back of her mind. She touched Hatter's cheek and turned his head so that she could look right at him. "Hatter, you're… you're happy here, right? We're…" she swallowed and forced herself to continue. What if he got home, saw everything the way he remembered it, and… "We're not going to go and you just – decide—"

"Hey," he said softly, his manic energy ebbing away. He brought a hand up to cover hers. "That's not going to happen. Not ever." He kissed her forehead and reached for a hug, tucking her head in the nook of his shoulder. "This is what's going to happen: we're going to go to Wonderland, have an adventure for a day or so, visit Charlie, laugh at Charlie, come back, and then have amazing post-adventure sex. How does that sound?"

Alice snickered into his jacket, settling into the sensation of being held. He smelled like allspice and that weird perfume he scented his teashop with, like vanilla and grass.

"I love you," she said.

Hatter leaned back to rub his thumb across her cheekbone and kiss her briefly. "I love you, too," he said, and Alice felt all the anxiety fly away.

She smiled and stepped out of the hug, checking her watch. "You're going to miss your subway if you don't head out now," she told him.

Hatter jumped a bit, mumbling "Cripes!" and reaching for his hat and jacket. "See you tonight then, Kettle?" he said with a wink and a flash of his dimple.

"See you tonight," she called to his back as the door swung shut.

* * *

..

A whole world away, a very small girl with very dirty blonde hair stood barefoot on the very top of the very tallest mountain in the Tulgey Wood. She didn't notice the cold wind blowing through the holes in her threadbare shirt, nor the suddenly sedate behavior of the (normally quite communicative) beaver sitting at her feet. All her attention was fixed on a small cluster of smoking trees several miles away, and the green glow that brightened, turned purple, and then faded away to nothing.

She sighed, and looked down at the beaver. "Oh, dear," she said.

He clicked his teeth in agreement.

* * *

..


	2. Chapter 2

_Warning: This chapter contains sexually explicit content not necessarily reflected in the "Teen" rating._

* * *

..

Alice could barely concentrate on anything the rest of the day. She even almost got thrown once or twice, and by beginning students, too – that would have been embarrassing. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw images of the Tulgey Wood, of Charlie, of the Kingdom of the Knights. She wondered if they had cleaned the place up any in the months since she left. She wondered if Jack had married the Duchess. She wondered if they'd rebuilt the house of cards yet.

She wondered if they had any of that Lust left over so she could have some fun with Hatter.

Alice stayed after her last class just long enough to inform her assistant instructor, Jared, that she would be taking a long weekend to visit an ailing relative. Next thing, she was standing in front of her dresser placing folded shirts in a small knapsack. She tossed the bundle on her bed and ran a hand through her sweaty, post-work hair with a grimace. Might as well shower now, while she had the chance.

She had only just gotten her hair wet when she heard the front door slam. Alice grinned mischievously. "I'm in the shower, Hatter!"

Within seconds she heard the sound of their bedroom door opening and closing. Hatter poked his head into the bathroom, already barefoot, tieless, and unbuttoning his shirt. "Oh, _really?_" he asked with a wicked grin and a raised eyebrow.

"Hmm," she agreed. "Now, didn't you say something earlier about pre-adventure sex?"

"Did I?" Hatter stepped into the shower behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing a few droplets of water off her shoulder.

"Well, something like that," Alice said, turning around to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss.

She had intended to kiss him softly, but she was taken aback by Hatter kissing her _hard_, crashing into her lips and taking her breath away, and soon they were both swept up in a familiar frenzy of tongues and teeth that neither of them ever won (and, equally, never lost). Alice curled her fingers in Hatter's hair, warm and soft between her fingers, now becoming damp in just the steam of the hot shower. He dragged his nails down her back, over the swell of her buttocks to grip her thigh possessively and she whimpered, feeling him smile and run the tip of his tongue lightly across her bottom lip.

She sucked in a breath as she felt his hand, that clever, clever right hand, slide between them and cup the full length of his hand against her. She ground her hips into his hand impatiently, biting his lip and hissing softly when she feels one of his fingers slip into to her, dipping in and out experimentally, testing how slick she was. The pad of his middle finger moved to rub once, twice against her clit, and her hips bucked.

"Lift me up," she moaned when Hatter had leaned his head down to suck the water dripping from her breasts.

In no time, the hand gripping her thigh had shifted, tensed, and lifted Alice up to lean her against the shower wall, sitting on the small ledge meant for shampoos and soap. She shivered as the length of her back touched cold tile, raising goosebumps that Hatter soothed away with licking and kissing and biting along her shoulders and collar and breasts. Alice tried to wrap her legs around his waist, eager to feel his throbbing erection, but Hatter stopped her with a hand. His eyes were dark behind wet locks of hair that stuck to his face, and his lips were red and swollen from kisses and bites.

"No," he told her. "Not yet." He wrapped one hand around Alice's thigh and hoisted it up, kneeling between her legs and draping it over his shoulder. Alice's moans and gasps echoed around the bathroom tile as Hatter's tongue swept across her folds, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as he teased her clit, sucking and licking the soft skin and raw nerves.

Alice forced open her lust-hazed eyes, watching the water from the shower run in rivulets down the contours of his back, dripping off the toes of her leg slung over his shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his tongue dart out once more to flick against her clit and she moaned loudly in response to the sensation, closing her eyes again and riding the orgasm as she came once, and then again with an almost painful crashing sensation as Hatter closed his lips to suck _hard_ at her already swollen clit. "_Hatter_…" she growled. He looked up at her from between her legs, eyes dark beneath lashes sprinkled with stuck water droplets, and he _smiled_.

Alice's heart leapt into her throat and her breath stalled. For a second, everything else blurred away, and all she could see was Hatter, dark curls stuck to his face, smiling that ridiculous smile.

"I love you so much," she whispered, and her breath was still so labored, and the shower water pounded so hard against the tile, that for a moment she thought that maybe he hadn't heard her.

But he stood and wrapped his arms around her, nudging his nose against hers gently. "God… I love you, too," he whispered against her lips. They stayed that way for a second, just breathing together.

Alice moved first, edging forward just that half-inch she needed to kiss him, reaching with one hand to grab his erection and line it up with her opening. Hatter, spurred into action, pushed forward to enter her slowly, gently, and together they set a steady rhythm. Alice wrapped her arms and legs around him, clinging, but knowing he wouldn't let her fall to the ground – he laid one hand at the small of her back to steady her as their hips rocked together, the other hand braced against the tile wall behind her. The sound of wet skin slapping together echoed loudly, faster and faster until Alice arched against him, moaning his name and gasping for air. One, then two thrusts more and Hatter followed with a deep growl of his own, biting into her shoulder only just restrained enough to not break skin.

They stayed like that for just a little while: wet, clinging, gasping, and thoroughly content.

* * *

..

"Called your mother?"

"Yep. Did you let your employees know you'd be gone?"

"Mmm hmm. And Jared?"

"Jared knows. Hey, have you seen my-" She looked up from double-checking her knapsack to find Hatter already holding up her birth control pills. She smiled and threw them into her bag. "Thanks. Hey!" she laughed and reached to trace her finger along a familiar porkpie brim. "I haven't seen this hat in awhile."

"It's my best hat," Hatter sniffed. "All weighted, and everything. This hat was built for action."

"Just leave the bulletproof vest at home, please."

"Well,_ you're_ no fun."

She pretended to kick him and he scurried out the door, laughing. "Oh, go pack!" she yelled at his retreating back.

* * *

..

Nearly an hour later, after all the shouting and the packing and running around the apartment like teenagers, Hatter was finally able to lock the apartment door behind them as they headed out. Alice reached for him as he turned around and he grabbed her hand, fingers intertwining with hers immediately.

The walk to the construction site was uneventful, although they did get turned around once or twice in the maze of dark buildings and long-forgotten pipes left to rust as Alice tried to remember the path she'd run the first time she found the mirror.

"Wait," Hatter said abruptly as they were about to pass an archway made of especially rusty pieces of aluminum. He shifted, turned, almost in mid-step. "I think it's down this way."

"What? Why?" Alice asked, following his lead as he tugged her, turning left through the archway and down another hall.

"I've just got a feeling it's this way," he replied. "You may have been unconscious last time we were through here, but I wasn't, and I think I remember that pipe on the ceiling. That's Wonderland work if I've ever seen it." He pointed, and Alice looked up to see a humongous, bright blue pipe that didn't go straight from point A to point B like all the others, but journeyed in swoops and spirals, dipping and diving between the other scattered pieces of hardware like something alive.

They turned one more corner and there it was: about ten feet long and eight feet high, beautifully gilded in an ornate frame and constantly rippling like a puddle someone had just stepped in. Alice could see herself reflected in it – pants, dark blue top, jacket, sensible shoes, and knapsack – but it was hard to look at her image for too long. It felt like the image was sliding, blurring the longer she looked at it. She felt her stomach give a nervous, involuntary lurch. _I've had enough of Wonderland for a lifetime,_ she had said once.

"Well," Hatter said off to her left, nudging her shoulder with his own playfully. "You ready?"

She looked over at him, with his funny little crooked smile, and knew at once that all she would have to do is say no, and they could forget this whole thing. No questions, no problems, he wouldn't say a word and he wouldn't think any less of her, they'd just turn around and go home. He'd make her tea, he'd make her laugh, and then they would sit on the couch, eat dinner, and watch TV.

Just like yesterday.

Alice realized then, resolve settling in her bones, that while she loved yesterdays, she wanted to remember what it was like to have _today_.

"Yeah," she said, smiling and squeezing his hand, throwing her nerves out the window and just focusing on him, being here with her, _today_. "Let's go."

So they stepped toward the mirror in unison, and just as the tip of Alice's sneaker slid behind the Glass' surface, she saw her reflection jerk and shift wildly, the image flickering and then disappearing, a sound filling her head like a thousand windows breaking – but before she could cry out, or jerk her foot back, or even change her momentum, she had already fallen through.

* * *

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	3. Chapter 3

..

Alice knew at once that this was not a normal trip through the Looking Glass.

Instead of blues and pinks flying around her, all she could see was sickly-looking shades of green and black. Instead of feeling as though she were falling through air, she felt as though she were swimming through soup. And if it weren't for Hatter's death grip on her hand, she wouldn't have been able to see him right beside her.

But before she could even finish thinking _Oh dear God, I hope this works out,_ she landed knees-first on hard, cold marble, throwing her hands out to stop her fall. Alice hissed at the bruises she felt forming and blinked her eyes against the light.

"Well," she heard Hatter say. He sounded breathless himself. "Never thought I'd be seeing _this_ place again."

The palace room housing the Looking Glass looked just the same as when she had left it; all red and white and filled with Suits wearing plastic bags.

Except, when she had left it, they hadn't all been staring at her in complete and utter shock.

"Hey," she said, standing up and giving them a shaky smile, stretching her arms and fingers and knees experimentally. "We're back. Sorry to just drop in, maybe we should have… called, or something..."

"What are you doing here?" a Suit asked rudely. "What have you done? You're… you're not supposed to be here!"

Alice's eyebrows rose, and she could feel Hatter's shoulder edge in front of hers protectively, instinctively. "So much for a warm welcome," he muttered. She could almost feel his eyes darting around the room, counting the Suits and calculating his odds of fighting them all off if they had to. Old habits died hard… she knew, because she found herself unconsciously doing the same thing, sliding into an attack-and-defend mindset like a familiar jacket. It felt like she had never left.

It felt good.

But now all ten Suits had turned to each other and started talking in low, urgent tones. The One came up to the dais, holding out his hand and looking apologetic.

"I'm sorry, Miss Alice, Hatter, sir. It's just… you're not supposed to be here."

"Yeah, so I heard," Alice said coldly, forcing herself to relax as they walked off the dais and toward the back of the room. "I said we were sorry—"

"No, you misunderstand," One said. "The Looking Glass has been acting oddly, so we cancelled all the Jumps just to prevent this kind of emergency."

"What kind of emergency?" Hatter asked, taking a dark step forward.

"The Looking Glass breaking down," One said simply.

Alice felt her shoulders tense, and she was secretly glad for Hatter's hand once more reaching for her own. The odd colors, the darkness, the sound she had heard before they had left… "It _broke_?"

"Just now, about a moment before you came through. Did you notice anything odd about your trip?" He asked, in the manner of a scientist gathering data for an interesting experiment.

Alice laughed hollowly and shook her head, rubbing a slightly trembling hand over her face. "It broke." She turned to Hatter. "It broke. Hatter, _how do I keep breaking this goddamn mirror!_"

Hatter stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, but did not take his eyes off One. Alice could see his nostrils flaring, they way they always did when Hatter was feeling irritated. "Take us to see the King," he demanded.

* * *

..

Jack hefted the rocket launcher on his shoulder and urged his flamingo on, gaining speed. The large clock was hovering fifty feet ahead, in perfect position to—

But then a streak of red flamingo raced by his left, surprising him by appearing out of his blind spot, and he barely had time to grab ahold of his flamingo's neck before the aftershock of Red's rocket launcher knocked him into the lake below. He heard the clock shatter and cursed, urging on to the next clock without pause. His visor reminded him cheerfully that the score was black-red, 8-8 and tied.

_Thanks, visor,_ he thought sarcastically. _I don't suppose you'll tell me how far ahead Red is ahead of me, too?_

_300 yards,_ the script rolled neatly across his vision. Jack grumbled something about cheeky technology and turned off the visor scrolling, reaching into the pocket of his body armor. He found the slightly squishy ball there and grinned, hefting it in his hand and waiting for the opportune moment.

He was closing in on Red now – 200 yards – Red's flamingo had great speed, but there was no match for Jack's skill with a rocket launcher – 100 yards – the clock was just ahead of them, almost within firing range – 50 yards – Jack could see Red taking aim…

Jack threw the little green ball as hard as he could, not even stopping to watch as it bounced harmlessly off Red's helmet. As his opponent brought an errant hand up to their helmet, instinctively looking to see what had caused the sudden impact, Jack aimed and fired.

The clock ahead of them shattered with a satisfying crash, and Jack's helmet burst into victorious music. Grinning broadly, he brought his specialty black flamingo smoothly down to the landing dock. He yanked his helmet off, breathing in the fresh air.

"You'll never beat me, you know," he said as his opponent dismounted next to him. "I invented Clock-block, remember. I'm an expert Clock-blocker – undefeated, as a matter of fact."

Jack smiled at the distinctly feminine snort that came from under the helmet as the Duchess lifted it off of her head. "You cheat, Jack Heart," the Duchess accused him, eyes narrowed. She dragged one manicured hand through her hair, getting cool air to the roots and spilling the long blonde strands out onto her shoulders. Jack paused to admire how well her curls contrasted with the red of her suit. "What did you throw at me?"

"Just a ball, nothing more. There was no way it could have hurt you."

"That was a lousy trick, Jack, and you know it," The Duchess said, dumping her gear alongside his, where a Suit would eventually take care of it. "I was about to win, too."

Jack cut off all further complaining by pulling her into a kiss, and she reciprocated just enough for him to know that she was only a little bit mad at him before she pushed him away. He smiled and put a hand at the small of her back, the two of them walking side-by-side back to the castle. They hadn't gone far before Jack spotted a small, dark-robed figure running toward the Clock-block arena.

"Ten!' he shouted in greeting. "What's the rush?"

Ten bowed quickly at the two of them before saying, between panted breaths, "The Looking Glass finally broke, your Highness."

Jack and the Duchess exchanged a troubled look. "Well," he sighed, looking back to Ten, "It's not like we didn't know it was coming. I'll get my researchers to work double-speed, and send out a questing party tomorrow. At least we got the Glass blocked off before any damage was done."

"Well, that's just it, your Highness," Ten said, looking uncomfortable. "Two people managed to jump through the Looking Glass just before it broke."

"Who?" The Duchess demanded.

"Miss Alice and the Hatter, m'lady. They wish to speak to you."

It was times like this that made Ten very, very happy that the Red Queen was no longer on the throne – because it was during tense, silent, pregnant pauses like these that she most liked to yell "off with their head!" at whoever had borne the bad news. As it was, Jack just broke the silence by coughing and cracking his neck.

"Well," he said, very calmly and to no one in particular. "We'd better meet them, then." And he stormed off toward the castle, the Duchess following closely behind.

"Jack," she said, but he wouldn't look at her. "Jack, why are they here?" She wrapped a hand around the crook of his arm, struggling to match his pace. She looked closely at his face as she asked, "You didn't invite them here, did you? You would have told me if… you… had…"

The end of her sentence trailed off as Jack abruptly stopped, turned to look at her, and said coldly, "No, Duchess, I did not invite Alice here. I do not, however, think it is a coincidence that she suddenly appears on our doorstep right when we most need her, so I am going to go answer to whatever it is that she and Hatter require." He stepped out of the grip of her hand at his elbow. "Now, will you please accompany me to the Throne Room without any more questions?" And he slipped back into his stride as though he had never stopped.

The Duchess stood frozen, for only a second, before running to follow him. "Jack," she said once within shouting distance. "I'm sorry."

He stopped and looked back at her, cold expression slipping ever so slightly, and the Duchess realized: he was just as confused as she felt. She set her jaw and looped her hand once more around the crook of his shoulder, the two of them now walking in tandem back toward the Palace. Jack was her husband now, and she was his Queen, she resolved. Whatever had happened, they could handle it together.

* * *

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	4. Chapter 4

..

Alice sat on one of the steps in the throne room, foot jiggling impatiently, watching Hatter pace back and forth with his head bowed and hands jammed into his pockets.

"Will you stop that?" she called to him. "You're making me nervous."

Hatter exhaled sharply, continuing to pace. "This place makes me nervous. Good things never happen in the throne room."

"Well, it's not like I have warm, bubbly memories of it, either," Alice shot back, thinking of her Father and trying to barter head-on with the Queen, "but I don't think Jack's about to behead us. Everything's supposed to be different now."

"How do you know?" Hatter said. "He brought you to Wonderland the first time; for all we know, he _planned_ this."

Alice opened her mouth to remind him that nobody _brought_ her to Wonderland _either_ time, she stumbled through of her own free will, thankyouverymuch, but just then the doors to the throne room burst open.

It wasn't like seeing any other ex, Alice realized; bumping into them at a bookstore or something and having that awkward, embarrassing "so… how are you doing?" chat. Seeing Jack again was like seeing an old crush from high school – a warm, nostalgic feeling that was satisfying in its complete detachment. So when Jack looked at her and smiled his perfect, white-toothed smile, striding over to kiss her hand and say "Alice," in that warm tone she knew so well, Alice could honestly smile back at him and say "Good to see you again, Jack," with no trace of irony.

And if it made Hatter jealous, well, that was just a small perk.

"It's good to see you, too," Jack said, his way of speaking just as posh as she remembered it. "Although one could hope for better circumstances, I must admit."

Hatter coughed loudly behind them, and Jack dropped Alice's hand. "Hatter," he said, turning around. "Good to see you, too. You look like you're doing well."

"I am, thanks," Hatter said, shaking Jack's hand firmly and dropping it. Jack nodded and reached a hand toward the Duchess, who had been drifting by the door.

"I trust you both remember my wife, the Duchess?" he said, taking her hand and bringing her into the circle.

"You did get married, then?" Alice asked politely. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," the Duchess said. "We're happy."

The four of them stood there for a long, awkward moment.

(Alice was strongly reminded of her 10 Year High School Reunion, and if the situation had been less uncomfortable she would have laughed. As it was, she just bit her tongue and reached for Hatter's hand.)

Jack coughed, breaking the silence, and nodded to some clubs. "Well, let's get started," he said, as he and the Duchess went to sit in their respective thrones, now equally sized and sitting right next to each other. The clubs brought Alice and Hatter their own chairs, and the four of them sat opposite each other like the parody of a double date.

"So," Jack said, "Ten has given me the rough details, but I'd like to hear your side of the story."

"There's not much to it," Alice said. "We decided to visit Wonderland for a few days – it wasn't until we were already in the Glass that I knew something was wrong. Everything was…" she looked for the right words. "Darker? Slower, definitely. Then we were here, and your men told us the Glass had broken just as we'd arrived."

"You were lucky," the Duchess said with a sad smile. "If you had stepped through any later, you probably would have been lost. We couldn't stop the Glass from malfunctioning the last couple of days, and we're still not sure about how we're going to fix it."

"So what's wrong with it?" Hatter asked. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands rubbing slowly together: his get-on-with-it look.

Jack leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers thoughtfully. "As you both very well know, the Looking Glass is powered by the Ring of Wonderland, or more specifically, the Stone of Wonderland it carries. Unfortunately, it seems as though the Stone has died."

"Died?" Alice asked. She blinked rapidly. "How can a stone die?"

"My researchers have been trying to answer that very question," Jack shrugged. "Oddly enough, as far as we can tell the answer is 'old age', and it's been happening for generations. Now that we have reclaimed the Library from the Resistance's keeping, we've been able to find records from the White Knights chronicling the creation of a new Ring of Wonderland every hundred years since its inception. Apparently, the Stone needs to be replaced periodically."

"How is it that you didn't know about this?" Hatter asked, sounding every bit as frustrated as Alice felt.

Jack looked at him coldly. "Hatter, relations with my parents were _strained_, to say the least. It's not like they left me some "How to Rule Wonderland" handbook. In fact, I believe that my mother neglected to tell me this on purpose, hoping that this exact scenario would come to pass – well, maybe not this _ exact_ scenario." He amended, smirking. "I don't think she would have ever dreamed that you two would stumble in yet again."

"The point is," the Duchess intervened, "we're just as surprised by this as you are. This has all happened very fast, it was only a few days ago that the Glass started to malfunction. We promise," she said, looking at Alice apologetically. "We didn't do this on purpose, and we'll find a way to get you home."

Alice met her steady gaze, woman to woman – and believed her.

"Excuse us for a moment," she said politely, grabbing Hatter's arm as she stood. He took her cue, letting her lead him a few steps away so she could mutter to him privately. "Hatter," she insisted to his stubborn expression. "We can trust them."

She was then treated to the little shoulder-dance of exasperation, complete with heaving sigh, he did whenever she said something he disagreed with. "Alice," he warned, "You don't honestly believe that the Glass just _happened_ to break once we arrived? That wasn't a coincidence, Alice, they're trying to keep us here. We came here for a little trip, not to be held captive by the Royals again!"

"First of all, stop being so melodramatic, and second, don't you think I know that? I don't want to stay here either, but I really think it _was_ an accident. The Glass was acting funny before we even jumped through it, remember? I've gone through it enough times now to know that was no ordinary trip. I think they're telling the truth."

Hatter gave her a stern, pitying look so reminiscent of the one he'd once given her on a Wonderland beach that Alice would have smiled if the situation hadn't been so serious.

"Think about it this way," she tried. "Even if you don't trust Jack to want to send me home… and don't lie to me, I know that's exactly what you're thinking," she said as Hatter huffed, "Even you can admit that at least the Duchess would want me gone. For her own motives, if nothing else."

She watched as his shoulders slowly relaxed in a way that meant she'd won, and Alice smiled, a little secret smile meant only for him.

"It's going to be okay, you know," she said. He didn't answer. She snuck up on her tiptoes to give him a little kiss, but Hatter suddenly decided that he needed something else, wrapping his arms around her waist and trapping her lips with his own. The kiss was raw, territorial, almost desperate, and even though Alice would normally have been mortified to put on such a display in front of her ex, she knew that Hatter needed this. So she tried to kiss him back with as much calm reassurance as she could muster, trying not to think about how much they must be looking like a pair of horny teenagers in front of the new King and Queen of Wonderland.

Someone coughed behind them, possibly a club, and Alice drew apart. "We should save that for when we're safe," she whispered in Hatter's ear, and he chuckled into her hair. Alice gave his shoulders one last squeeze and turned back to sit with Jack and the Duchess, brushing her hair out of her face and trying to look as professional as possible.

"So," she said. "What's the plan?"

Jack cleared his throat, and Alice pretended not to see the little smirk he exchanged with his wife. "Well, since all paths seem to lead to the realm of the White Knights…"

"Charlie!" Hatter exclaimed. "That mad old codger, does he know anything about this?"

"That's our hope," Jack confirmed. "We sent for him yesterday – I meant to escort him by Scarab, but he insisted on coming by horse. He should be here by tomorrow morning. Hopefully he'll be able to fill some of the gaps in our knowledge."

"So, we just… wait?" Alice said.

"Unfortunately, yes," Jack told her. "Of course we will provide you with room and board here in the Palace, and you are welcome to go wherever you please during your stay with us. I do advise you to be careful, however, if you choose to venture outside the Palace."

"Why?" Hatter asked suspiciously.

"There are many citizens of Wonderland who miss my Mother's reign of instant gratification," Jack told them, sounding strained. He adjusted his collar with a decorous hand. "If they find out you're here, Alice…"

"They might bear a grudge," she finished. "Got it."

Jack nodded and took the Duchess' hand. As if this was a cue, the clubs threw open the door and stood aside. "We will send for you first thing in the morning," he said. "In the meantime, my clubs will assist you with anything you require."

"Thanks," Alice said. Hatter nodded gruffly beside her.

"It's my pleasure," Jack said, and the Duchess smiled at her as they walked by, out the doors with a regal air.

A very nice Five showed them to their room, a large suite that looked like every other room in the Palace: black, white, red, and somehow cold. Even the large bed in the middle of the room did little to give the place any warmth. Five dropped off their bags by the door and left with a small bow.

Now alone, Alice and Hatter turned towards each other, identical looks of exasperation on their faces.

"This was not exactly what I had in mind when I said we would go have an adventure," Hatter said.

Alice raised an eyebrow. "What kind of adventure _did _you have in mind?"

"Oh, you know," Hatter said, turning to sit on the edge of the bed. "See what's become of my teashop, spend a couple of nights on the outskirts of the Wood, have sex against a tree, maybe run from the Jabberwock once or twice. You know. Like camping."

The corner of Alice's mouth twitched. "Yeah, that sounds like every camping trip _I've_ ever had."

"But this," Hatter moaned, flopping back against the bed. "This is starting to sound like a _quest_! Quests are such a pain, Kettle, they really are. All horseback and food rations and traveling in groups and no truly hot tea, with significantly less sex against trees."

Alice rolled her eyes but moved to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry," she said.

Hatter lifted his head to look at her, concern written on his face. "Sorry? What are you sorry for?"

"For having to see Jack, I know it makes you uncomfortable. For the Glass breaking," she said. "I've sort of ruined our trip."

"Hey," he said, sitting up and taking her hand. He bent his head to look her straight in the eye. "None of this is your fault."

"Hatter, every time I go through the Glass it breaks. I'm two for two, I've got quite a success rate."

"That's not you breaking the mirror, that's… that's bad luck, 's all it is."

"So stuff just happens around me, huh?"

"Well, I mean, if the hat fits…" he said with a teasing smile. "And as for Jack—"

"Did you know that he proposed to me?" she interrupted. "It was before I went back home last time… before you met me in the Hall. He asked me to be his queen."

Hatter's face turned stony. "No," he said. "You didn't tell me that. I mean, I saw you two hug, but…" he scowled. "Wait, _you're telling me-_"

"Because obviously, you idiot, I told him no," Alice said. "I told him I was a different person, and that… that I wanted something different."

Alice waited for this to sink in. Slowly, Hatter's face relaxed into a smug expression. "You did?"

Alice shoved him. "Yes. I did. I didn't want Jack then, and I certainly don't want him now. I want _you_." She threw her leg over his waist to straddle his lap, and his hands immediately moved to rest on her waist: a familiar position. "Hatter," she said seriously, "You are the only one I want, ever. You know it, and I know it, and Jack _definitely_ knows it." She smacked his arm slightly. "Especially after that little display in the Throne Room!"

Hatter grinned lasciviously. "I'm not even going to _pretend_ I'm sorry for that."

Alice grabbed his hat before he could act and tossed it over the side of the bed, raising a challenging eyebrow.

Hatter's eyes narrowed. "You know you're going to pick that up, right?"

"Um, no. You deserved it."

"Ooh, you little—" he flipped her over and pinned her down, giggling, and although they both knew she could have thrown him off any time she wanted, it was far more fun to let him kiss her breathless, her fingers tangling in his cowlicks and his heart beating a wild rhythm against her chest.

As it turns out, they didn't need to call for any assistance from the King's clubs that night.

* * *

..


	5. Chapter 5

..

The next morning, they had breakfast at a table that was far too long to be possibly useful, and were served something such an electric shade of purple that Alice originally thought to just stick with toast and jam.

"Oh no, Alice," Hatter said, stopping her and handing her a piece of toast already smeared with the purple glop. "You've _got_ to try this, you'll love it."

She looked at him skeptically, but he nodded encouragingly and started heaping the stuff onto a slice of his own. Alice shrugged and took a bite. It was sweet and almost overwhelmingly tangy, flavor bursting on her tongue like Pop-Rocks and rocketing around inside her head. She followed it with a swallow of her tea, calming her taste buds so they might not explode from the unexpected onslaught.

"What _is_ it?" she asked.

"Treacle," Hatter explained. Alice scoffed.

"This is _not_ treacle."

"Well, not _Oyster_ treacle," he sniffed. "This is proper treacle, the way it's supposed to be. I've known people to live off this stuff."

"Really?"

"Well…not directly." He took another large bite. His eyes rolled back into his head and he gave a small moan. "Out_stand_ing. We should take some home, if we can."

"I'll mention it to my chef," Jack's voice said from behind them. Alice and Hatter turned towards the large door to see him and the Duchess stride in, sitting beside them at the table easily and preparing their own plates of toast and treacle. "I trust you both slept well?" he asked.

"Yes, thanks," Alice said, brushing crumbs off her upper lip and speaking past her fingers. "Any news from Charlie?"

"He's putting his horse in our stables as we speak," Jack told her. "I told my Suits to bring him here; he should arrive shortly."

Alice had just begun pouring her second cup of tea when a club behind her announced, "I present to your Majesties, Sir Charles Eustice Fotheringay LeMalfoy the Third," and it was the befuddled tone to his voice that Alice recognized more than the name itself, having spoken about Charlie in much the same way herself. She stood and turned toward the door. "Charlie!"

There he stood, as cheerful as you please, looking every inch the car crash he had been ten months ago. Except, Alice noticed, perhaps his beard had a little more lift to its curl now than it had before.

"My lady Alice!" he trumpeted, striding forward and hugging her tightly. "Ah, my dear, the heavens have seen fit to reunite us! But of course," he said, drawing back and tapping his forehead. "I did foresee it, you know."

"Of course you did, Charlie."

"Good to see you, mate," Hatter said warmly, stepping in to shake Charlie's hand.

"Sir Hatter!" Charlie greeted, leaning in just a little too close and asking, pointedly and in a low voice, "You are keeping Alice safe in my absence, I trust?"

"Of course."

"Excellent!" Charlie exclaimed, clapping Hatter on the back hard enough to make him stumble forward slightly. "Ooh, treacle!"

"Yes, please sit down," the Duchess told him, indicating a seat next to them. "You've been traveling, you must be hungry. We can debrief you here."

"Indeed," Jack said, as Charlie began to heap mounds of treacle on his plate, eating it in forkfuls large enough to make Alice's stomach turn just watching him. "We're hoping your expertise as a Knight will be of some use to us."

"I am at your command," Charlie said, looking as regal as he could manage with bright purple lips. Alice bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, and one glance at Hatter told her he was doing the same.

"The Looking Glass has inexplicably shut down," Jack told him. "It appears as though the Stone of Wonderland has died, and we were hoping you, representing the last of Wonderland's Knights, could shed some light on the situation."

Charlie preened, shoveling another forkful of treacle into his mouth. "Oh yes, my lad. That's quite simple; every hundred years or so, the Stone dies, and the Ring needs to be recast."

"Exactly, that's exactly what my researchers found while looking through some of the Knights' old documents. But can you do that for us?"

"Oh no, of course not!" Charlie waved his hand. "I'm old, sir, but I'm still quite aways from a hundred! The last Ring was made _years_ before I was born. I'm afraid I've no idea. But it was _written down_ - the nobles in charge were meticulous about that sort of thing. If your researchers have got all the documents, it should be there."

Alice brightened, but Hatter didn't miss the look between Jack and the Duchess, nor the way Jack leaned back in his seat the tiniest bit. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Excavating the Great Library has been… a challenge, to say the least," Jack said, rubbing his forehead. "I'm afraid only a portion of it has been removed and organized by my researchers. The journal we need must still be in the unexcavated Library kept by the Resistance."

"Well, we'll just go there," Alice said, but Hatter seemed to slump next to her. "What?" she asked, suddenly wary at the depressed mood of the table around her. "What's wrong with the Great Library?"

"Nothing's _wrong_ with it, I mean it's not _dangerous_ or anything," Hatter said. "But it's not exactly organized. The Resistance sort of rescued anything they could get their hands on and jammed it all together. Plus, it's sort of a pain to get around. It could take weeks to find one particular book in that riot."

"Well then, I guess it's a good thing you have _me_." Charlie wiped his mouth clean, plate now devoid of any leftover treacle, and stood at salute. "My lady Alice," he said grandly, causing her to shift uncomfortably in her seat, "All of my skills in the black arts I lay at your feet, at your disposal for use of book location, retrieval, and et cetera, until such time that I can ensure the safe journey of you and your harbinger back to your world."

"Thanks, Charlie," she said. She turned to Hatter, who was balancing on the back two legs of his chair with casual ease. "I think we can do it."

She watched patiently as Hatter continued to balance, still in thought, one hand coming up to ruffle at his hair. "Well," he said eventually, half-shrugging, "It's worth a try. I mean, he's _still_ mad as a box of frogs, that hasn't changed, but the old man does have a few tricks." He brought the front end of his chair back down with a thud, as though to emphasize the finality of the matter.

Alice raised an eyebrow. "Really, Hatter? I never thought I'd hear you sticking up for Charlie's usefulness in a scrape. Here I was, thinking I'd have to convince you."

"I mean, his black arts are, y'know, _spotty_ at best, but… well, he _did_ help me find you."

They smiled at each other.

"Jack," she said, turning back toward the table at large. "Charlie may be good to go, but Hatter and I will need horses. When can we leave?"

* * *

..

"I'll admit, when I said, 'Let's go have an adventure', I wasn't exactly thinking of a library visit."

An hour and a half later, newly armed with food, water, basic travel supplies, and the bags they'd brought with them containing their clothes, Alice, Hatter, and Charlie said their goodbyes to Jack and the Duchess and followed a helpful Eight to the royal stables. Charlie wandered off almost immediately to find Guinevere for himself and Eight went to fetch the horses Alice and Hatter would be taking, leaving them alone to talk for the first time since breakfast.

Hatter turned to Alice, looking stern. "Now look, Alice, I know it's just a library to you, but people have gotten lost in there and never resurfaced. Promise me that you'll keep yourself safe, and you won't do anything reckless."

"I will if you will."

"Alice—"

"No, I mean it," she said seriously. "I'm not going to make that kind of promise, because if something happens, I'm coming after you, and that's that." She grabbed the lapels of his jacket tightly. "I know you'd do the same for me."

His face softened ever so slightly. "Of course I would."

"Well, then," she said, standing on her tiptoes and kissing him softly. "We'll watch each other's back, and there won't be any problems."

"Yeah," he muttered, turning back to Eight, who had just arrived leading two horses. "Because _we_ never have _any_ problems."

Alice ignored him, stepping forward to admire the brown and white stallions that Eight had brought out. "The white one is Pat, and the brown one is Bill," Eight told her proudly.

Alice pursed her lips, looking at the two horses. She hadn't anticipated this little dilemma. She looked back to see Hatter giving them the same conflicted look that she felt—they locked eyes, knew they were thinking the same thing, and smiled.

"Oh, no… Miss, you've misunderstood," the clearly flustered Eight said after they had finished loading up the white stallion with all of their gear. "There's a horse for each of you to ride if you just distribute the gear evenly—"

"We know," Alice and Hatter said in unison as Alice mounted the brown horse to sit behind Hatter. She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder. He craned his neck to kiss her temple.

"Just like old times," she said.

"You ready to go, Charlie?" Hatter called. Charlie appeared from around the corner, riding Guinevere serenely.

"Of course," he scoffed.

And they were off.

* * *

..


	6. Chapter 6

..

The Great Library, Or Most of It, Anyway, was about a day's ride from the Palace. The morning was mostly uneventful, with the exception of one teahead who tried to attack Alice by springing out of the bushes. He ran up to their horse, brandishing a knife and yelling nonsense - she kicked him in the head and he went down like a bag of potatoes.

"Well," she said. "That was boring." And they rode on.

* * *

..

Alice had forgotten how _bright_ Wonderland was.

All the colors seemed to leap out at her as they trotted along the lakeside, saturated greens and browns and yellows in the forest, blues and greens and even glimpses of deep purple swirling and glittering in the lake as it lapped along the shore. Every now and then she could see a flash of red dart by under the water, and around midday she was finally able to catch sight of one of the bright red fish leaping into the air, beak snapping and shaking its claws at her before diving back in.

After a few minutes waiting in vain for another red fish to appear, she grew bored and looked into the forest for more peculiar wildlife. Almost at once, she noticed something tall, gray, and hidden in the trees.

"What's that?" she pointed.

Hatter turned to look, frowning. His eyes darted around for a minute, flitting from tree to tree distractedly until his confused expression finally focused on something… and slowly relaxed into a smile. "Figures," he chuckled softly, rubbing a weathered hand over his face. "Charlie!" he yelled ahead of them. "We've got a quick detour to make, don't get lost," and he turned off the path toward the gray figure. "You're gonna love this," he said over his shoulder as they moved through the thick branches.

It was cooler as they moved deeper into the forest, the tall trees providing shade against the sun. Every now and then a single, stubborn ray of light would break through in a focused beam, scattering the dust in the air and swirling about as the upper leaves blew in the wind. Birds called to each other over their heads in a cacophony of sounds Alice didn't recognize, a whole party on the treetops fading into silence the farther they rode.

They rode in much deeper than Alice had originally estimated, the gray figure in front of them growing larger and larger as they approached. "What is it?" she whispered as they cleared the last branches. It must have been fifteen feet tall, wide enough at its base that Alice's arms would barely reach halfway across.

"It's a monument," Hatter whispered reverently, dismounting and helping Alice down as well. "It was put up in secret about a hundred years ago, once the Queen of Hearts started to rise in strength again. Its location has been kept secret in these woods for decades. I've never seen it for myself." He shook his head and chuckled. "Figures you would find it right off the bat though, doesn't it?"

She looked askance at his wry smile and opened her mouth to retort with a comeback of her own, but the words died on her lips as they finally reached the front of the monument and she found herself staring into the wide, stone eyes of none other than the Alice of Legend herself.

She was humongous, but her delicately arched fingers and dainty feet betrayed her youth, a girl of maybe seven or eight years old. _So young,_ Alice thought, remembering her own first trip through the Looking Glass and wondering that a girl so small could withstand such confusion and uncertainty, all alone in a strange world, and yet still accomplish so much.

"She must have been very brave," she breathed. Hatter didn't say anything, just hugged her closer from behind, letting her absorb more of the girl's features: the artists had been meticulous in every detail. Her long, curled hair, a heart-shaped face with wide eyes and a slightly parted mouth, tiny finger poised as if about to ask a question, the wrinkles in the fabric of her dress, the way her petticoat stuck out an inch or so at the bottom, just a bit too big for such a small girl. The longer she looked at it, the more the statue seemed to become _alive_; there was a tear at the bottom of her apron, a stain on the cuff of her dress, her hair ruffled ever so slightly in the breeze, the scuffed patent Mary Janes she wore were just a little bit too small, and they were hurting her feet, her lips moved as though she were about to say—

"If you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there."

She jumped at the sound of Hatter's voice, sucking in a ragged breath—she hadn't realized she'd stopped breathing. "What?" she coughed.

He pointed towards a plaque at the base of the statue, where the quote was written in bold script. Alice looked back at the face of the small girl, now a statue once again. For an instant, she thought she had seen—but never mind.

"Good advice," she said.

"Indeed," Hatter said. "Legend says this monument moves around Wonderland, and can only be found by those who aren't looking for it. I used to know people who would try to make pilgrimages to this place, back when the Queen was at the peak of her power. Most of them never found it, but they insisted it was the searching that was the most important. After all," he kissed the back of Alice's head. "She was just trying to find her way home, too."

Alice hummed in agreement, still looking for any sign of life, but whatever she had seen was gone. A trick of Wonderland light, she thought.

Just then, Charlie came crashing through the branches. "Aha!" he cried upon seeing them. "You mangy scurmuffins, I—" the end of his sentence trailed off, breath visibly whooshing out of his lungs as he slowly started to take in the large, stone girl in front of them. Alice could see his eyes grow misty as he looked into her eyes and touched the toe of her stone foot. "I haven't seen this in years," he breathed.

"You've been here before, Charlie? Really?"

"Yes," he whispered. "Years ago, I… I was out borogrove hunting, and then all of a sudden, I tripped over a tree branch and… well, there she was." He rested his hand on his armored breast with a clanking noise that seemed jarring in such a reverent atmosphere. "The heavy veil of fate, separating this girl's golden thread of destiny with mine own, did rise upon that glorious occasion to meet both our souls in blissful harmony. Oh, I stood as reverently then as I am now, and stood transfixed far into the night." He paused, as though letting the enormity of that statement sink in before adding, as an afterthought, "Of course, by then I got lost trying to find my way back to camp, but there you go!"

"Did you know her?" Alice asked, turning to Hatter.

"No," he said. "My grandfather did, though. He was the Hatter in the story, you see. Of course, by the time he escaped that tea party, he was absolutely mad, cohesive conversation with him was almost impossible. I never got him to tell me a decent recollection of the incident, but..." his eyes turned inward. "Whenever he spoke of her, and he did often… he always spoke of her very fondly."

"The _real_ White Knight met her," Charlie said into the following silence, his voice still barely more than a whisper. "I used to always ask for that story before bedtime. I remember my mother was especially fond of telling it."

The three of them stood there for a while in silence, all staring at the statue of a small, curious girl who dropped into their lives and changed everything forever. Eventually Alice realized that the sun was beginning to set, the small square of blue sky directly above their heads becoming tinged with pink. "How far away are we from the Library?"

"A little too far to get there by nightfall," Hatter sighed, coming out of his reverie to reach for Pat's reigns behind him. "But my old tea house isn't too far from here. We can camp there for tonight, head to the Library in the morning. It's probably safer that way, too; I've no idea what kind of people are hanging around that old place, and I wouldn't want to sleep there."

"I quite agree," Charlie said, climbing atop Guinevere once more, armor clanking loudly. "Nothing like a good shelter in times such as these. Lead on, comrade!"

As they trotted away, Alice couldn't resist one last look over her shoulder, just to see the statue one last time before endless branches hid it completely away– but by the time she looked, it was already gone.

* * *

..


	7. Chapter 7

..

Everything in The City looked the same to Alice, especially in the dim, dusky light that steadily deepened for every minute that ticked by. All the buildings were tall, gray, and covered in moss and mildew. As they climbed higher, the surroundings continued to look the same: like the smooth, rust-colored leather of Hatter's jacket, specifically the back of it as she clung to him tightly and turned her cheek to stare at his right shoulder.

_This is the jacket I bought him,_ she realized, trying to concentrate on that instead of the dizzy feeling in her head that intensified as the altitude increased. She focused on the memory of finding it at a thrift store and thinking it looked just like the jacket he wore in Wonderland, back when she first met him, but this one had a slightly deeper, orange-y color. He'd loved it, told her he'd missed that jacket and ever since, Alice got a certain thrill in her stomach whenever he wore it. Hatter was very particular about his clothing, more particular than any other man she'd ever met – it was nice to think that she knew him so well that she could recognize clothing that would meet his exacting standards.

"We're here," he announced suddenly, and Alice was pulled out of her thoughts with a sharp jolt. She looked around and thought for a second that Hatter must be mistaken: his tea house hadn't looked nearly this ill cared-for when she had visited it before. The steps were sagging and cracked, leading up to a door hanging askew by one brave, determined hinge. The paint had begun to peel in places all around the storefront, and the electric readerboard that had once been above the porch was now lying in glittering, splintered pieces on the dirt. If it weren't for the bright red phone booth still standing stalwart in front of the place, Alice wouldn't have recognized it in a million years.

She touched Hatter's tense shoulder, rubbing in what she hoped were calming sorts of circles as they both surveyed the wreckage. "Probably teaheads," he choked out in response to her touch, voice hoarse with either emotion or anger- Alice couldn't tell which. "Scavenging for scraps. Gone mad, most like."

"We can go somewhere else," she tried. "I'm sure there's an abandoned building around here somewhere—"

"No," he interrupted, looking at the trashed storefront with dark but determined eyes. "No, this was _my_ shop, I'm going to goddamn stay in it if I want to." He dismounted Pat, reaching up to help Alice down after him. "Fuck the teaheads," she heard him mutter under his breath as he grabbed Pat's reins and led him up the stairs, ignoring the way the splinters of readerboard crunched under their feet.

Even Charlie was uncharacteristically quiet as they entered the main room of the teashop, even more thoroughly ravaged than the storefront. The shelves had been completely demolished, torn from the wall and thrown to the ground to sit in beds of glass shards, probably from broken bottles that had once held valuable emotions (_like Peace_, Alice thought ironically, but didn't dare say it aloud). Half the lights were either dangling crookedly from the ceiling or left overturned on the floor, the blackboard at the end of the room lying in two dejected pieces.

It was dark, dusty, and painfully quiet.

Alice felt more than saw Hatter turn on his heel and walk steadily towards the wall behind them, his footsteps echoing loudly in the empty room, the whisper of his hands trailing through the dust across the wall, and then –

"_Aha!_" He said, the shaky relief in his voice contrasting sharply with the dejected feel of the room around them. Alice heard the small, hollow click of a tumbler falling into place. "They didn't find my office!" A part of the wall opened up and Hatter darted inside, Alice doing her best to follow close on his heels.

He was right; aside from the yellowed, dead grass on the ground, his office was exactly the way she remembered it: a gleaming white desk and swivel chair, the silver headphones still draped over the side, the clear cabinet full of abandoned jackets he had decided not to take with him; even the papers splayed haphazardly on his desk appeared undisturbed.

Hatter turned in slow circles on the grassy space front of her, taking in his old surroundings with arms held wide. "My tea surplus is gone, of course," he said to no one in particular. "Dormy probably took it, he's the only one who could've gotten in here once I'd closed the door. But – oi, hey, watch it, you!"

He rushed at Pat, Bill, and Guinevere, all of whom had started to munch on the dead grass.

"Leave them be!" Charlie huffed. "We don't have much in the way of food for them, you know!"

"Yeah, and your grass is long dead, anyway," Alice said, reaching forward to hug Hatter from behind so he wouldn't strangle their horses. "Let's set up some food for ourselves, yeah?"

They ate from the rations Jack and the Duchess had provided them, during which Hatter stared at the horses darkly from the corners of his eyes, and after which Charlie rolled out a hammock from nowhere and hung it from some of the pipes climbing up the sides of the walls.

Alice turned to Hatter, eyebrow raised. "You got a place for us to sleep?"

"Of course," he said, standing up and stretching his arms wide with an accompanying groan. "That's probably just the way I left it, too—not even Dormy knew how to get in there."

Alice watched as he walked over to the far left corner of his office, the same portion of wall she had seen open to the cityscape on her first trip here, and she opened her mouth to say—

But the door opened to a dark staircase, steep enough to almost be a ladder and leading up out of sight. Alice's mouth snapped shut and she blinked. "Hatter, didn't that door lead outside earlier?"

He gave her a look that was endlessly amused. "Wonderland," he quipped. "Come on, Alice, _you_ should know the drill by _now_."

Alice rolled her eyes and scanned the room one more time as she stood: Charlie, already sleeping with the loud snores of an old man, the horses grazing peacefully on Hatter's grass. Satisfied that they were safe, she walked over and smacked Hatter's shoulder as she started up the stairs. "Cheeky," she muttered.

He smacked her butt as she went by in response.

"Oh, don't you _even_, mister."

* * *

..

Alice didn't know what she had expected Hatter's room to look like – indeed, she wasn't sure it had ever occurred to her to think about it – but whatever she would have thought, this wasn't it. It was small, maybe a hundred square feet, carpeted with a deep, almost black, purple color that matched his textured bedspread. The neatly made twin bed sat in the center of the room, surrounded by white wall-to-wall bookshelves crammed full to bursting with books and knick-knacks. Some of them Alice would have expected, like tea leaves, a teapot, a teetering stack of saucers and cups. What surprised her was the small collection of things from iher/i world: copies of The Shining and Jurassic Park sat right next to a beat up edition of Pride and Prejudice. He had a whole shelf dedicated to dinosaur figurines sitting next to a mountain of broken pocketwatches. Then there were things she didn't recognize, like a glass ball that looked like it was full of moving stars, a funnel that was covered in spikes issuing smoke that vanished as quickly as it was created, a clock with no numbers and no hands but clicked the seconds nevertheless, and all over the room, hats hung from _anything_ with an edge or a hook or an available flat surface.

"I never thought I'd be in here," she said honestly, because what else could she say?

"Actually, neither did I," Hatter said, coming up the stairs behind her. He took off his jacket and threw it onto a coat rack she hadn't seen in the corner. He slid off his hat and threw it with an expert flick of his wrist to land perfectly on a brass hook by his bed. And all of this was done while spinning to jump spread-eagled onto his bed. It was one smooth (and, Alice begrudgingly admitted to herself, _impressive_) motion obviously perfected over years of practice. "I never thought I'd see any of this again, you know."

She came over to sit next to him, nudging his knees to the side to make room on the tiny mattress. "Do you miss it?" she asked, tapping her fingers absently against his knee.

"Miss what?" he asked evasively.

"Wonderland."

He was quiet for awhile, still flat on his back and staring at the ceiling. "I'm not sorry I followed you, if that's what you're asking."

"It's not."

"Alice," he said, "the thing is, it wouldn't have _changed_ anything, me staying here. My shop would still have been destroyed by desperate teaheads, I would still be…" He shrugged listlessly. "Dunno, really, but I probably wouldn't be _happy_."

For the first time, Alice finally realized she knew the name of that feeling of unease in her stomach: the sick, swirling, sinking feeling in her gut that had been growing ever since she had first seen Hatter's storefront. What she thought was just empathy and height-induced nausea was in fact something far more sinister.

Guilt.

"I'm sorry." The words trembled out of her mouth and she swallowed hard, trying to make the stinging sensation at the back of her eyes go away. She stood up and begun to pace back and forth, frustrated that the clutter of Hatter's room didn't allow for a sufficiently calming pacing distance.

Hatter raised himself up on his elbows. "Alice?"

"_Look what I've done!_" she wailed, her voice tearing, haggard, out of her throat. One trembling finger pointed at the door, the other balled painfully at her side. "I've… Hatter, this world is _broken_. Full of desperate, violent junkies searching for their last fix, economy shattered, losing their homes and their jobs, and _I did that_!"

Hatter pushed himself standing, his brow furrowed. "Now, look here—"

"And then I just waltz off, leaving it for Jack to clean up!" she continued, pacing again, nervous fingers scraping her cheek as she furiously wiped her tears away. "I dump this mess in his lap and don't even think twice—"

"_Hey!_" Hatter snapped, and he gripped both of her arms tightly enough to hurt. He looked truly angry, eyebrows drawn together and his mouth set in a firm, small frown. "I think you've forgotten all the time and people it took to make this revolution _happen_, Alice!"

Her mouth snapped shut, her wide blue eyes meeting his hard, brown ones.

"What, you think you just swanned in and toppled the Queen all by yourself!" He snorted dismissively. "The Resistance had been working for _years_, setting up the very dominos _you_ toppled! And as for Jack, he was the goddamn _Prince_, you think he didn't realize _exactly_ how much damage he'd have to fix after he usurped his mother! Don't trivialize all the work that we did, and don't you _dare_ assume that we didn't realize _just_ what we were getting ourselves into!"

Even though he was yelling at her, Alice still felt the guilt in her gut beginning to lift away as the truth of his words sunk in. She turned her embarrassed gaze to the floor and shrugged off his grip. "Fine," she muttered, shame burning in her chest. "I… You're right. But how can I not feel guilty for my part in it when we ride up to your _home_, and it's completely..." She dug the heels of her hands into her eyes to stop from crying again – she hated crying, it made her feel like she was ten again. "Hatter, you can't deny that part of it _is_ my fault, and I wouldn't be me if I didn't feel guilty about it, so just—"

Hatter groaned in frustration, ruffling his agitated fingers though his hair. "Look, do I wish I could go back to the way things used to be? I don't know. Sometimes I might think that maybe I'd like to _re-do_ them, but those days are gone, and they're not coming back, and… y'know what, good riddance to 'em. Trading them for a life with you was worth it, would _still_ be worth it every time. You… mad thing," he added lamely, as though he felt he needed something at the end.

She was quiet for a second, anger and panic beginning to subside. "…I think we just agreed that we're both responsible for destroying Wonderland."

"…I think maybe that's what happened, yeah."

Alice choked out a laugh, running a wayward hand through her hair.

"Look, don't worry about the tea shop," Hatter said, his expression softening. "It's just a house, Alice. Just a shell, a front. Not like I was really using it, anyways. And," he grunted, kicking his shoes onto the floor and beginning to undress for bed. "While we're on the subject, don't go beatin' yourself up all the time, over _every little thing_. When you've finally done something worth blaming yourself over, trust me, I'll tell you. In fact, I'll probably be first in line. Until then?" He poked her with his foot as he pulled the covers back. "Let's just get a good night's sleep."

Alice rubbed her hands roughly over her face and began stripping down to her underthings as well. She'd brought some PJs in her knapsack, but it felt silly to be using them now, with Charlie sleeping downstairs.

"Will we still be fighting in the morning?" he asked, looking pained, as she climbed into bed beside him.

"No, I don't think so," Alice told him, pulling the covers over them and sniffling the last of her tears away. "I think maybe you just gave me a much-needed talking to."

"We're okay, then?"

"Yeah. We're okay."

He kissed her on the forehead and tucked her into a hug. "Good."

* * *

..

**A/N_: _**I just wanted to thank all my readers who have left me such positive reviews! ^_^ I can't believe the wonderful response I've been getting to this fic - over 30 favorites and 40 story alerts! I put a lot of work into making all my _Alice_ fics intricate and consistent with canon, so I'm glad to see that I've been succeeding in your eyes. If you've been reading and lurking, I'd love you to drop a line and say hello! ^_^ I hope to see you all as I continue to post.


	8. Chapter 8

..

The next morning at breakfast, the three of them agreed on leaving the bulk of their supplies safely in Hatter's office. They could retrieve it on their way back to the Palace, and this way they wouldn't have to drag everything through the Library with them.

"Flashlights, matches, food enough for three days or so, and water," Hatter insisted. "That'll be all we'll need. Any more gear will just drag us down."

"Three days?" Alice looked at him with skepticism written all over her face. "You don't think we'll really be there that long, do you?"

"Best be prepared," Hatter said darkly.

They said goodbye to the horses (or rather, Charlie gave Guinevere a rather tearful hug and instructed her to watch over their camp), packed up, locked up, and headed back out into The City. Hatter and Alice were still on tenterhooks around each other, both of them feeling the lingering remains of the fight the night before, but Hatter still didn't even ask before reaching to hold Alice's hand tightly through the entirety of the hike there. This was something she intensely appreciated, as the path to the library had neither widened nor sunk any closer to the ground in their absence, and vertigo sent occasional shivers of panic up her spine.

It wasn't long until they reached The Library, although it didn't look much like Alice remembered it. She climbed out of the underground bus to find the golden hallways of what had once been a Resistance stronghold now dim, the stale air smelling of mildew and that musty book-smell she'd always associated with libraries as a child. She stepped forward to run a hand along the firm wood of the balcony banister, fingers drawing lines in the dust. She peered tentatively over the side to look at the Library below – it had felt sad and dirty when it had been filled with dirty, tired, and hungry refugees, but also somehow warm and safe. Now, void of all life except the sleeping history of Wonderland, it looked… darker, scarier, more sinister. Alice couldn't help the feeling, looking down into it, that it looked somehow even _more_ alive than it had been before.

"Alice!"

Hatter's voice cut through her thoughts and she turned back to look at him. "Hatter," she said, blinking her thoughts away and shrugging off the shiver that had run down her back. "How big _is_ this library?"

"Big," he replied shortly, coming up to her and placing a hand on the small of her back as he glanced over the balcony as well. "Really big."

"It is said," Charlie intoned eerily behind them, "that The Great Library, before the Red Queen's reign, spread over a third of the Earth, kept underground so that whole cities were literally built upon the foundations of knowledge!" He spread his fingers wide upon his cheeks, eyes growing huge with childish excitement. "The Librarians that o'erkept the place were not hired, but born into a society that lived the entirety of their lives within the Library's bookish depths! Only _they_ were able to navigate its labyrinthine twists and turns, where up becomes down, right becomes left, and-"

"I don't suppose any of them are left to help us, right?" Alice interrupted. It suddenly made sense why Hatter had wanted to bring three days' worth of food. She brushed a weary hand through her hair. "Well, go ahead, Charlie. You still think you can help us?"

He straightened, looking affronted, his armor clanking as he moved. "But of course, milady! It will take only a moment's foray into the wide expanse of the vorpal plane to lead us toward our legendary tome. Observe!" He hunched over, eyes squeezed tight and long, pale fingers waving up toward his temples. "Galadoon…" he muttered, "_t'poosh!_"

Alice glanced over at Hatter to see the skepticism she felt written all over his face, but she didn't say anything and neither did he. All of a sudden, Charlie's eyes opened wide and he gasped.

"Sacred soup tureens!" he yelped. "Follow me, comrades, together we shall move where the ancient winds lead!" He scurried off towards a staircase nearby. "Come!" he barked when they only stared after him, momentarily stunned. They collected themselves quickly and followed. He set a pace surprising for such an old man.

They started down a staircase that led off of the balcony and onto the books themselves, across platforms of hardbacks, around corners of pop-up books, even past a tower of tomes that appeared to be vibrating with a low thrumming sound. Hatter lit torches whenever they happened to pass by one in an effort to mark where they had been, but Alice had the sense that methods such of these, while sensible in an Oyster labyrinth, wouldn't be nearly as effective here. This feeling intensified when she looked behind her shoulder at one point to see a torch, which had been _moving slowly to the right_, stop still as though it knew it had been caught. Still, it was nice to have the light, and a comfort to think that they were at least doing _something_ as they delved deeper and deeper into the heart of the beast.

Alice huffed with exertion and a mild sense of panic as they trekked across a walkway, seven hardbacks wide and bridging a sizable gap perhaps thirty feet high. Her eyes flickered down briefly, cursing herself even as she did so – but what she saw made her stop. "Hatter?" she called.

He turned immediately at the sound of mild panic in her voice. "Alice," he said, "it's not even that high, really, just take my hand."

"That's not it," she said, pointing across and down into the space below them. "Look at that torch."

Hatter's gaze followed the direction of her finger, but his expression remained thoroughly nonplussed. "What?" he asked again.

"Is that torch _upside-down_!"

"Oh," he said. "That just happens here. The library's not too particular about dimensions and things."

"_What!_" she choked. "Hatter, _are we crossing this bridge upside-down!_"

"Probably. Don't worry, it's just a Wonderland thing, try not to think about it if it makes your head hurt. You're not going to fall though, I promise." He shifted impatiently. "Come on, we're losing Charlie."

Alice made a strangled noise that Hatter apparently took for _Yes, I'm coming_, because he turned neatly on his heel and jogged away. Meanwhile, Alice's pleas for help were caught painfully in her throat. A cool sweat had begun to bead on her forehead, and her stomach rolled. She wondered idly whether, if she threw up, the vomit would fall to the floor like it should or to the endless chasm that stretched… above… her head…

She squeezed her eyes shut against the dizzy swirling feeling in her head and tried to calm down the full-force panic attack she felt coming.

_Alice, _she thought forcefully. _You are not going to throw up, or faint, or freak out. You're not. Just take a deep breath, and open your eyes._

One shaky, thin breath hissed its way through her teeth and into her lungs before being sighed slowly out. Then another, then another, until the tingly feeling in Alice's head and fingers began to subside.

She opened her eyes.

The first thing she noticed was the cat suddenly sitting maybe two feet in front of her, casually lounging as though it had always been there, its tail twitching impatiently. The second thing she noticed was that it was exactly the same cat she had found in the forest on her last trip to Wonderland – she knew it was the same cat because Alice would know those gray and black markings anywhere, a distant and deeply resonant call from her childhood.

"Dinah?" she whispered. "How did _you_ get in here?"

The cat looked up at her with the dour expression that only cats are able to achieve. Alice swallowed.

"You're the Cheshire Cat, aren't you?"

"You know," the cat said clearly in a voice that could have been described as either masculine or feminine but not both, "If you're worried about falling, you shouldn't glue down your hair so tight."

Alice blinked. An errant hand came up to brush the tips of her hair. "Excuse me?"

"You're lost," it said simply, standing and stretching its front legs. "I can always tell. You people have a special scent to you."

Alice hesitated, not quite sure how to respond. "I suppose so. I—wait, did you just say I _smelled_?"

"Follow me." The Cheshire wound around her legs briefly before walking away.

"I can't," Alice mumbled.

Cheshire flipped to its front paws and stood on his head to look back at her. _Odd that it would choose to do that instead of just… turning around,_ Alice thought.

"Why not?" it asked.

"If I move, I'll fall."

"Fall where? Why would you fall anywhere?"

"I'm upside-down."

The cat grinned. Upside-down, it looked like a disturbingly toothy frown that sent shivers down Alice's back. "So?"

Alice groaned in frustration. "It's called _gravity_, okay?"

"You should probably tell your hair," the cat said, his tail disappearing and reappearing in boredom. "And your skirts too, I should think. All of your body parts should be in consensus about these sorts of things – someone is liable to get left out, and if their feelings are hurt, well, that's just on your conscience, isn't it?"

"What are you—" but Alice stopped, now suddenly conscious of the weight of her hair against her shoulders, lying there innocently as it had always done. "My hair!" Realization dawned. "It's not… in the air… So I'm not upside-down?"

"Well, according to your own definition, I suppose not," said the cat. "Now, believe it or not, I actually do have other things to do, so can we leave the coordination of your mind and body for another time, hmm?" He vanished without so much as a pop or a puff of smoke, simply reappearing at the other end of the bridge and looking back at her with a condescendingly smug expression.

Feeling rather embarrassed at being chastised by a _cat_, Alice took a tentative step forward, found the laws of physics just as she had left them, and hurried across the bridge to follow the bottlebrush tail as it trailed around a corner of self-help books.

* * *

..

Hatter had no idea Charlie could move so fast.

He jogged across the bookish landscape, barely remembering to light torches as he passed, straining his ears for the sound of Charlie's clanking armor. It was to his left, far off to his right, just down the hallway – once it had even sounded as though it was _above his head_ - but now, nothing broke through the silence but Hatter's own heavy breathing, now deafeningly loud in his ears thanks to the tiny, enclosed hallway he had paused in.

"Well," he panted, "Looks like we're pretty much fucked, eh Alice?"

He turned around, but the girl he had thought had been following him was _not there._

A heavy weight dropped in his stomach. "Alice!" he called, unable to keep the fear from edging into his tone. "_Alice!_"

Hatter felt the beginnings of full-blown panic rise in his chest. The dark walls on his every side seemed to be closing in now that he had stopped moving. The space felt cramped, hot, and dark… old, stupid childhood fears coming back to haunt him, fears he kept _secret_... His breaths grew shallow and quick, a fine sheen of sweat broke out on his brow –

_STOP IT,_ he commanded himself, shaking his head vigorously and squeezing his eyes shut. _Don't think about it. Plan, plan, come up with a plan to get out of here._

He strained his memory frantically, swearing that he had heard footsteps jogging just behind his the entire way… he looked accusingly at the walls closed in around him, so receptive to echoing noises. "You tricked me!" he shouted. With no other recourse, he lashed out his foot, flinching when it struck what looked to be a 500-pound hardback. He groaned through gritted teeth at his now throbbing toes and jarred ankle. "_Damn_ this library!" One or two of the books within his circle of light shook slightly, as though laughing.

Alice was lost. – and, to be honest, he wasn't doing much better.

"Goddammit!"

He sighed, allowing himself a moment's rest to catch his breath before jogging back the way he came. Charlie would just have to take care of himself for awhile.

* * *

..

"Look," Alice slowed down in front of yet another staircase the cat had begun to climb. She was panting heavily, taking in gulps of air. Her legs felt as though they had been running for days, and for all she knew, they could have been. "I don't know where you want to take me to so badly, but my friends and I, we're looking for a book written by the Knights. It's got the instructions on how to create a new Stone of Wonderland inside."

The cat looked at her, eyebrow raised (did cats have eyebrows?), not looking even the least bit ruffled by their long journey. Alice took its stony silence for understanding and pressed her point.

"If you show me where the book is located, I'll keep going with you wherever it is you're taking me." She set her jaw and looked down at the cat challengingly. "Do we have a deal?"

The cat yawned, its impossible amount of teeth glittering up at her. "What if I said no? What would you do then?"

Alice's confidence faltered as she glanced about herself. "I'd find my way around here somehow."

"Really." The skepticism was almost physically dripping off the words. "Well, then, I don't suppose you would care if I just…" And the cat was gone.

Alice blinked, looking around to see where it had gone, but it was nowhere to be seen. "Drat," she muttered. Steeling herself for a long search, she headed down a random hallway to her left.

"You're going the wrong way."

Alice wheeled around at the sound of the cat's gleefully mocking voice to find it hovering in the air behind her.

"The wrong way to the book, or the wrong way to wherever you're taking me?" she asked, her tone biting.

"Both, as it turns out," the cat said. "But your timing is perfectly awful, you know. We're actually almost there. It's right up that staircase." He pointed with his tail at the long staircase Alice had stopped in front of – row after row of books that led up into a dark passageway Alice couldn't see. Her legs ached just looking at it.

"Oh, right up there, huh? That's easy for you to say, you can just reappear there."

"Indeed." The cat faded away so that only its devilish grin was left. "I'll see you there, little Oyster…"

"Wait!" Alice cried, fed up with the feeling of being used. "_Where are you taking me?_"

_To the tomb of course…_ the cat's voice echoed in her head, followed by a soft giggle. _Don't worry – it's not yours._

Shivers danced down Alice's back, but she refused to shake them away. Instead, she took a deep breath and began to climb the wide staircase.

* * *

..


	9. Chapter 9

..

Charlie clanked along the dark passageways, not bothered by the fact that the two-foot radius of his torch was the only source of light. "Galadoon…" he muttered, turning left toward an opening he hadn't seen, but already knew would be there. "T'poosh!"

The books seemed to be whispering to him through the veil, some of them talking animatedly and some of them just staring shyly. Walking down the passageways, Charlie felt occasionally like he was _swimming_ through the force of their attention, they were so excited to have newcomers – but Charlie couldn't socialize right now. He was on a mission.

"Sorry!" Charlie sang at them as he hurried down another staircase and then back up the underside of that same staircase. "I'm rather in a hurry, you know!"

Hall after hall after hall, across chasms, tiptoeing around narrow ledges, up staircases, down staircases… Charlie even slid three flights down a fireman's pole at one point. After awhile he stopped paying attention, stopped even keeping his eyes open, simply following where his feet led him until they stopped; and even then it took him awhile to figure out what had happened. What clued him into it was that his head became silent for the first time in hours… maybe even days. There was no way to tell how long he had been searching.

Charlie took a deep breath and opened his eyes, shifting the fading torch in his hand. He blew on it lightly to encourage the embers, using the meager light to scan the gilt-lettered spines surrounding him. Huge, dusty tomes, all of them a different size and color, stretching on to infinity…

Charlie suddenly realized how _tired_ he was. He closed his eyes again and sighed gently.

"Where are you?" he asked softly. His voice sounded loud in his ears, even though he knew he couldn't have spoken louder than a breath.

_I'm right here_, a small voice said, clear as a bell in his head. Charlie turned his head to the right and knelt down to the floor, to the very bottom shelf. The book spines at this level were so caked in dust that they were indistinguishable from each other, their labels long covered by age and neglect. Charlie took off his gloves and brushed a light finger across them, drawing a thick, trembling line through the dust. Unbidden, his finger came to a halt on a small book he hadn't even realized was there, surrounded by such large company. It matched the approximate thickness of his thumb, and was only as tall as his right hand – the dimensions suggested a journal rather than the hefty leatherbound tome Charlie had pictured.

And, Charlie realized, it felt _warm_.

He drew out the small book, glancing admiringly at its emerald green cover, the leather straps binding it loosely shut. It tingled under his fingertips, humming happily to an invisible tune.

"Found it!" Charlie hollered suddenly, his loud voice mixing with the clatter of his armor as he jumped up from the ground in celebration. "My comrades, I have—"

_Oh,_ he realized, words dying on his lips. He huffed in displeasure, turning in a futile little circle. His only company, however, was nowhere to be seen. Charlie huffed in displeasure iagain/i, just to prove how affronted he was in case anyone he didn't know about was watching. (Because that happens, you know, in libraries.)

_Well,_ he thought, _I guess I'll have to find them now too._

He picked a random direction and started walking.

* * *

..

The staircase the Cheshire cat had indicated was suspended over nothing, Alice noticed with dread – it simply _stretched_ from one ledge to another, with no visible means of support. She probably wouldn't have made it five steps except for the fact that, as she climbed, books would appear from out of nowhere to stand straight as soldiers lining the sides of the staircase. It was rather like bumpers 10-year-olds use on the lanes at a bowling alley. Alice was caught between feeling a little bit scared that the books had gained the ability to read her mind, a little bit insulted that she was being treated like a child, and a little bit embarrassed that her fear of heights was so persistent. Mostly, she was just grateful.

Once she reached the top of the staircase, she looked down the long, dark hallway in front of her; unfortunately, it didn't seem any less threatening from up here. She slid her knapsack off her shoulders and felt around inside.

"Wonderlanders can use torches all they like," she muttered, "but I'll stick with a good, trusty flashlight, thank you very much." She pulled out the large, black flashlight she had bought in college with the idea that, if necessary, it was definitely heavy enough to knock out any man attacking her. It had a comforting weight, with a beam strong enough to double as a searchlight. Now satisfied that no mysterious Wonderland book-lurkers could possibly spring out at her from the dark, Alice confidently strode forward to the door at the end of the distant hallway and pulled it open.

Inside was a small chamber, dimly lit by four torches blazing merrily on the walls. Except for the torches, it looked as though nobody had seen this room in well over a hundred years – dust and cobwebs draped over every surface, and the air felt stale on her skin, smelling strongly of mold. The room's only inhabitant was the pile of books supporting and surrounding a single cushion as though it were a throne, the cushion itself looking as though it had once been soft but was now lumpy and bug-infested. Alice stepped closer and saw, laying peacefully on the cushion –

A skeleton.

A _human_ skeleton.

"I _told_ you it wasn't your tomb. You Oysters are so _distrustful._"

Alice jumped at the Cheshire's voice behind her and swiveled around to meet its gaze, floating level with her own.

"Who _is _that!" she demanded, her right hand reflexively tightening on her flashlight as though ready to swing. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I'm giving you a _history_ lesson, silly girl," the cat drawled.

"I didn't _ask _for a history lesson," Alice exploded, "_I_ just wanted to find that stupid _book!_"

Cheshire didn't say anything in response, just flicked his tail. Alice brought a hand up to cover her eyes and exhaled loudly, trying to calm down. It had been a long day, and Alice was starting to get really fed up with this Library, with its stairs and its upside-downness and the _skeletons in the closets_.

Cheshire flipped onto its back and rolled its eyes, "That book will be of no use to you unless you understand Wonderland's history, and you are _not_ a native of this place, so therefore you have a _lifetime_ of catching up to do. I'm simply trying to _help_."

"Well, you're really starting to freak me out, so just help me or leave."

"Fine." The tip of its tail began to vanish, and the rest of the cat began to follow. Within seconds, only its mouth was left, saying, "You really should take a closer look, though…" before disappearing.

Alice hesitated, privately screaming a little frustrated scream in her head. She took another deep breath and scrubbed her hands over her face. How long had she been in this Library? How long since she had _slept_? Or _eaten_? As though recognizing that it was finally getting some attention, her stomach chose this moment to rumble loudly.

Alice shrugged off her knapsack and rummaged around inside for some of the food she had brought with her. As her hand closed down on a package of nuts and dried fruit, she turned around to find a place to sit on the floor. The tower of books caught her eye – she paused.

_Well, if I'm already here, I suppose there's no harm in looking…_ she reasoned to herself, allowing her curiosity to take over and inching close, _I mean, it's already dead, so…_ Now only an arm's reach away from the base of the throne, she bent into a kneeling position to get a closer look, munching thoughtfully on a handful of dried fruit.

Cobwebs and dust covered everything like a settled fog, itching her nose and making her eyes water. She put the packet of food back in her knapsack and reached her arms forward, clearing a path of sight through the mess of age and abandonment. The cobwebs stuck to her arms and hands, but Alice had never been squeamish about that kind of thing – she brushed it off to the side, feeling a warm glow of satisfaction in her stomach as she cleaned this poor soul's grave, one that probably hadn't been visited in decades. "I could use some good karma," she muttered, brushing her dusty hands off on her jeans and surveying what she had unearthed.

Now that she could see it properly, Alice realized how _small_ the skeleton was – _perhaps a child_, Alice reasoned, swallowing a lump in her throat. The dry bones were nearly hidden, dressed in humongous, heavy, and ancient-looking armor that had probably been much too large even when the child was alive. Her eyes followed the line of one skeletal arm that had slipped out of its metal casing, the tiny, fragile hand falling to disappear over the edge of the cushion. Without even thinking about it, she reached to take the arm and place it over the child's chest, but as her fingers tugged the dry, brittle bone, it refused to budge.

Alice frowned and shifted her position, ignoring knees protesting at being kept in a kneeling position for so long. She peered over the edge of the cushion to see what was weighing down the child's hand.

It was a sword.

* * *

..

Hatter felt like he'd been running for days through the Library's dark hallways before he found his way back out. Luckily, although some of the torches he'd lit seemed to have vanished somehow, for the most part he'd been able to use the little light that remained to guess his way through the twists and the turns and find more open areas. Eventually he found himself out of the hallways and into the more plaza-like area they had been running around in before. Taking only a minute to celebrate this minor victory, he continued to search.

At one point Hatter finally admitted to himself that he had to take a minute's rest, his exhaustion catching up him as he realized his legs were wobbling with every step. Panting heavily, he leaned with his back against a wall and slid down to a sitting position as he tried to catch his breath, legs splayed out in front of him in the golden light. He cast his eyes around the area – he'd picked a good place to crash. From here, the open area showed bridges, stairs, endless doors and archways – if Alice passed this way, he'd be able to see her.

_I told her not to get lost!_ he thought angrily. _When I find her, I'm gonna kill her. Although,_ he poked experimentally at his increasingly numbing legs, _at this rate, she's probably going to kill me first…_

His heart rate had calmed down by now, but he didn't get up from his sitting position, taking time to lazily observe his surroundings. Books stretched out as far as he could see, bathed in a weird golden light the source of which he couldn't determine. _Cities literally built on the foundations of knowledge,_ he thought idly.

He heard a sound from off to his left: a loud, long creaking noise.

Hatter's head turned so quickly he almost got whiplash. "Alice?" he called, getting to his feet. He heard another creak, this one louder and closer, sounding like it was coming from the opposite side of a nearby archway. Hatter jogged off in that direction, through the archway and hanging a left. "Alice, is that you?"

He rounded the corner just in time to see a JubJub bird turn at the sound of his approach, opening its huge jaws to let out a loud, high-pitched screech like the sound of a million steel nails against glass. Hatter's heart stopped in his chest and his eyes grew wide as he tried to frantically backpedal away, but it was too late – the JubJub had seen him.

JubJub birds were the things Hatter heard about 'round campfires as a child, stories his elders told him in an effort to keep him out of trouble: easily 10 feet tall, a JubJub bird was a giant yellow canary with the body of a six-legged horse and a wingspan of three times its height. Its beak took up the full bottom half of its face, sharp enough to cut through steel and wide enough to house nearly forty razor-sharp teeth. The worst part though, his older cousins would tell him eagerly, were its dark eyes: deep, soulless, sunken in pits, like two black holes stuck in a yellow, fuzzy face… the same kind of eyes that were now _fixed on Hatter._

"Oh, _shit_," he muttered, turning around to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

* * *

..

Alice stared at the sword clenched in the child's skeletal hand. It wasn't a particularly _lethal_ looking sword, the blade itself wider than a normal sword's would be and maybe only a foot and a half long, dusty and caked with rust. She reached for the hilt to lift it onto the cushion with the child, but her palm had only just brushed the smooth metal when it vanished from under her fingertips and her fist closed on only air. Alice looked down at her clenched fist, confused.

"Congratulations," the Cheshire cat's voice rang unexpectedly in her head, making her jump. She looked frantically from side to side, but the cat itself was nowhere to be found. "That blade has now been lost to Time. Good luck getting it back again!" The Cheshire's voice giggled madly before disappearing again into silence.

"Stop _doing_ that!" Alice yelled, moving into a defensive standing position as though she expected him to pop out of a wall and attack her… which, at this moment, wouldn't have surprised her all that much. "What the hell are you _talking_ about!"

No answer. Now sincerely freaked out, Alice picked up her knapsack and slung it over her shoulder, giving the child's skeleton a wary glance. The sword had not reappeared, but before Alice could even wonder about it, she heard a loud and strangled voice yelling frantically in the distance – a voice she knew very well.

Her head whipped around in the direction of the voice. "Hatter!" she yelled, high-tailing it out of the room without even a backward glance.

The torchlight in the room spluttered, lowered to embers, glowed for just an instant… and died.

* * *

..

All Hatter could think about was running _faster_. The ground under his feet shook with the pounding force of six giant horse legs in hot pursuit, he could hear the JubJub's screeches tearing the air apart, its wings flapping madly, frustrated by containment. Hatter knew the only reason he was still alive was because there wasn't enough open airspace in the library for the JubJub to fly - normally they hunted from the air, swooping down to catch their prey, flying high above and then dropping the food from a great height to kill it, spilling its juicy insides on the ground for easy eating.

Somehow, Hatter kept finding the energy to _run faster_. He didn't dare look back behind him to see how far away the monster was, he just _ran_ - over bridges, jumping over gaps, almost tumbling down one particularly steep staircase. On an impulse, he took a sudden left to run through a narrow-looking archway, hoping to slow down the creature.

"Whoa!" he yelled, throwing his weight back as the ground dropped out a few feet ahead of him. He skidded to a halt, arms pinwheeling madly. From where he stood, Hatter could see the endless chasm that dropped off below – he backpedaled, cursing, and turned around to run back the way he came, only to find himself looking straight into the black, empty pits of the JubJub's eyes.

* * *

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	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** This chapter was made possible by WikiHow. ^_^

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..

The breath stalled in Hatter's throat as the JubJub screeched madly, flapping its wings and almost sending Hatter careening over the ledge with the force of its gusts. Throwing his right hand behind him, Hatter planted his feet, gritted his teeth, and let loose the only weapon he had available to him: his fist. He aimed at the side of the JubJub's face, hoping to just distract it long enough to be able to run past, but the JubJub had seen it coming. It ducked his head under Hatter's fist and swung back up to headbutt Hatter in that place where the jaw meets the ear, sending him flying to the side.

Light exploded behind his eyes and Hatter yelled in pain, grunting as he hit the hard ground and slid several feet. Acting on instinct, he rolled away from the edge, bringing up an errant hand to his injury as he did so. He grimaced as it came away covered in his blood – he'd been cut by the JubJub's beak as it struck him.

Too late, he realized the ground beneath his hands and knees was trembling – the JubJub's six humongous hooves shook the ground with every step as it galloped up to him and knocked him over with a swipe of its wing. The JubJub placed itself above Hatter's spread-eagled form, cornering his head with its front hooves before raising its head to let forth a loud, victorious screech. Hatter cast his eyes about, looking for something—anything—

"Hatter!"

_Alice._

Hatter didn't quite know whether to feel relieved or terrified that he found Alice just as he was about to get ripped apart. His neck still hurt so much from the impact of the JubJub's attack that he could barely move his head – nevertheless, he strained as far as he could manage, looking for her. "Alice?"

_"Hatter!"_ There she was – on a staircase thirty, maybe forty feet above them, looking down at him worriedly, in a near-panic. The JubJub's unblinking eyes turned upward at the sound of her voice, temporarily distracted from its meal. Hatter knew it would just take a single beat of those massive wings for it to catch Alice and dash her to the ground. He thought about watching that happen, about seeing her limp body thrown down next to his, limbs torn asunder and face frozen in an expression of terror.

"Alice!" he bellowed. "Alice, _run!_"

* * *

..

Alice had been only about halfway down the stairwell, looking frantically for any sign of Hatter in trouble, when the sudden blur of yellow in her peripheral vision made her stop. She stopped in her tracks as what looked like a giant, yellow, canary-horse galloped below, stopping at a dead-end ledge that dropped off into nothing. Alice had lowered herself to her knees and gripped the side of the stairwell ihard/i as she leaned forward, straining her eyes to see what the canary-horse had been chasing. All of a sudden, the bird bent down and made a violent motion with its head, sending its prey flying far to the side.

_A figure wearing a hat_.

"Hatter!" she cried, fingers gripping the sides of the stairwell so tightly they hurt. He didn't seem to be _moving_ – the bird galloped over to him, and Alice felt her blood run cold. _"Hatter!"_

Her last yell had caught the bird's attention – Alice froze where she knelt as the hideous thing turned its head towards her, and she looked into its black, tar-pit eyes. She wanted to look away, but she just sat there, immovable under its gaze. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead.

"Alice!" she heard Hatter yell, his voice cutting through the air desperately. "Alice, _run!_"

His voice broke through her frozen stupor, and she stood sharply, backing up a few steps away from the edge. She thought about those eyes focused down on Hatter, pinning him to the ground – whatever that bird wanted with him, Alice was sure it couldn't be good.

"Hell no," she muttered shakily. "Oh, _hell_ no." Frantically, she looked from side to side – the stairway seemed to continue forever in both directions, and Alice was not in the least bit confident that either way would lead her to Hatter. With _her_ luck she would just wind up lost and alone, hundreds of miles away and completely unable to do anything to help.

There was only one other way to get down off of this staircase.

Alice felt her knees go weak at the thought. The staircase must have been at least thirty or forty feet above the ledge where the bird had cornered Hatter. She inched forward to peer over the ledge: from this angle, she could see that with a good jump, she could land on the ledge at least, maybe even aim for the bird itself. Alice's hands shook – she clenched them into fists and swallowed a panicked sob.

The bird screeched again, like the sound of a million people screaming in unison. _If you're in trouble, I'm coming after you,_ she had said to him. _And that's that._

Alice stepped back a few feet, turned her mind off (_ohfuckohfuckohfuck_), and took a running jump off the staircase.

* * *

..

Many things happened at once.

Hatter watched Alice's face disappear back over the edge of the staircase and, hoping that for _once_ she had actually _taken_ his advice and had _run away_, he summoned his strength and tucked his knees to his chest, delivering a sharp, hard kick to the JubJub's chest with as much force as he could muster. The JubJub screamed and staggered backwards, but before Hatter could even pull himself into a sitting position, a dark blue and black blur tumbled from the sky and hit the JubJub smack on its side. The two of them tumbled to the ground in a heap, all six of the JubJub's legs thrashing about dangerously.

"Alice?" Hatter groaned as he staggered upright.

"Hatter," she said, her voice sounding shaky. She crawled away from the JubJub, which had almost managed to get its legs underneath it. "I'm alright," she said. "I'm alright. Are you—"

But her sentence was cut off as JubJub's wing, flailing out to the side, caught Alice square on her right shoulder. She screamed in pain and Hatter could hear a sick popping, cracking sound that seemed to resonate through his whole body – she was thrown backwards by the force of the blow, sent flying into a pile of books.

Hatter stared, frozen, breathing heavily through his mouth and swaying slightly, at the crumpled form of Alice on the floor. She was trembling from the pain, one hand clutching feebly at the shoulder jutting out from her body at a sharp angle. He turned his gaze to glare darkly at the JubJub, now back on its feet and, screeching wildly.

_"Come on!"_ he shouted, opening his arms wide. The JubJub started galloping towards him, head bent low to his level and huge jaw stretched wide. Hatter took a deep breath, planted his feet, curled his right hand into a dense fist, and swung.

His fist connected with the side of its head with a _crack_, and the force of his fist combined with the JubJub's momentum sent it tumbling over the ledge with a pained, keeling cry. Hatter stumbled to the side a little bit, peering over the edge to see the JubJub fall, head over feet, its wings beating uselessly against the walls of books, unable to spread out. Hatter watched as it fell, fell, fell… and then nothing.

Just silence.

The world rushed back when Hatter heard Alice's soft cries behind him. He blinked and stretched out his fisted fingers absently, turning away from the ledge to rush to her side. Tears had streaked the edges of her cheeks, and although he could see that she was biting her lips in a concerted effort not to cry out, the soft whimpers she was making in her throat were clearly audible. "Alice," he started, laying a soft hand on her leg, but the rest of what he was going to say died on his lips as he looked at her injury. There was no blood, but the once-smooth juncture between her neck and shoulder was now interrupted by a sharp hitch.

"It's dislocated," she said, voicing what he already knew. "I recognize it from the dojo." She was obviously exerting great effort to keep her voice level, and Hatter couldn't help but feel a little surge of pride that she could keep her cool in a time like this. "Can you fix it, or do you want me to tell you how?"

"I know," he said. "I've seen this before, working for the Resistance. It's going to be okay, Alice," he went on, his voice shaking. "I know it hurts. It hurts a _lot,_ and it's about to hurt a lot _more_, but we can fix this, okay?" He blew out a sharp breath and nodded to her as reassuringly as he could manage. "_I_ can fix this."

She nodded, and he carefully picked up her right arm, placing it in an L across her chest and folding her hand into a fist. He steeled himself against her cries of pain as he slowly, but steadily, rotated her shoulder outward and _pushed_.

He heard it slide into place with a pop, and Alice relaxed bonelessly into his embrace as the pain subsided. The two of them sighed in simultaneous relief, breathing heavily. Hatter brought up a shaking hand to his face.

"Don't you _ever_," he groaned, "make me do that again."

She breathed out something that was either a laugh or a curse word. Hatter chuckled and took off his jacket, tying the sleeves together to form a makeshift sling and resting Alice's arm in it.

"I'm not an invalid," she protested.

Hatter could tell she didn't really mean it, so he just said, "Yeah, let's try to keep it that way," in response, tucking her into a _very_ careful hug. He looked up at the stairway she had fallen from. "Did you _jump_? _Really?_ That must've been nearly forty feet!"

Alice smiled and kissed his cheek. "Well, I told you I'd come after you."

"That you did," he said, turning his head back to look down at her. "Thank you."

They smiled at each other briefly.

"…Even though you really should have run like I'd told you."

Alice scoffed.

"Well, a man can _hope_," he went on, rolling his eyes at her. "I mean, that bird was going to _eat_ you! And they don't just _eat_ their prey, mind you, they sort of… smash them first."

"What _was_ that thing, anyway?"

Hatter sighed. "A JubJub bird. They're an old monster, very old – I thought they were extinct. The Queen exterminated the last of them to clear the skies when her electric flamingoes were invented. Apparently one's been hiding out in here for the last few decades."

Alice straightened, just now realizing that they were short one member of their group. "Where's Charlie?"

"We got separated. He's a _fast_ old man—"

Her voice turned worried. "You don't think the JubJub got him, do you?"

"I should think _not_," a pompous voice said from off to their right. "And, might I add, I have never _seen_ such a lazy pair of adventurers!"

Alice and Hatter turned to find Charlie standing in the archway, looking completely unruffled, a green book tucked under his arm. "Well?" he asked with a grin. "Shall we be off?"

* * *

..

They arrived back at the teashop to find the grass almost entirely eaten, the horses wandering around looking bored, and, as Charlie said, "Based on the amount of horse droppings, I'd say we've been gone about three days."

"Wonderful," Hatter drawled, looking forlornly at the dead grass and horse crap that covered his office floor. "Who's going to clean all this up?"

The three of them looked at each other.

"Not me," Alice said. "I've got my shoulder."

Hatter sighed. "I'll get the shovels."

* * *

..

Alice made dinner while Hatter and Charlie cleaned - she was more than willing to play the role of domestic female if it meant not having to shovel three days' worth of horse manure. Afterwards, around a happy little campfire and nursing very full bellies, sleep beckoning them on the horizon after not having a good night's rest in three days, Hatter reached for the little green book.

"So this is it, eh?" he said, turning it around in his hands. "Awful lot of trouble for such a small thing."

"And you're sure it'll tell us how to get home?" Alice asked.

"That's it," Charlie said. "I'm sure of it. I can read it aloud, if you like." He held out a hand, and Hatter passed the book to him. Just as Charlie cracked open the cover, however, Alice let out a humongous yawn. Hatter saw her and laughed.

"Tired?" he asked, smirking, before the smirk turned into a yawn of his own.

"You know what, Charlie," Alice said with a smile, "I say sleep now, magic book in the morning."

"Yeah, I agree," Hatter said, obviously biting down on another yawn. He stood up and Alice followed him.

"Very well," Charlie told their retreating backs. The door closed behind them and Charlie sighed, putting out the fire so that only the glowing embers were left.

That night, they all dreamed of books, and whispers in the dark.

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	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** I'd like to thank my guest writer for the opening of this chapter, abscondinabox, who had these first 350 words sitting on her computer collecting dust. When I discovered them, I was agog and aghast that she had no clear intention of continuing the idea, and she offered to let me adopt it. ^_^ So here it is, slightly touched up to match my style so you wouldn't notice when I took over the narrative, but pretty much in its full glory.

I'd also like to thank **Kitty-0-kat**, who so far has left a review on every single one of my ten chapters. ^_^ Thanks so much for your support, darling!

* * *

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This is how it starts.

"Jack," said the Deuce of Clubs, wearing a very loud shirt and chomping noisily on the end of a cigar. "Jack, my boy. I want you to meet somebody. She's a real looker—legs up to here, blonde like you won't believe—and I think you two crazy cats will be iperfect on screen together, just _perfect_." He took the cigar out of his mouth and shouted, "EDDIE! Christ, where the fuck is Eddie. EDDIE, BRING HER IN." He put the cigar back in his mouth and smiled greasily.

Jack adjusted a cuff link and wondered, not for the first time, what he'd gotten himself into.

It was actually his father who first had the idea - before he had married the Queen, he had been in pictures.

("I was quite the dandy," Winston boasted, winking at the Queen. She smiled at him indulgently, herself drawn back into memory: somewhere in the Casino there was a room filled with Winston's costumes (high-flying sky pirates, dashing soldiers, suave multi-millionaires), the fashionable gowns that the Queen had worn when he appeared on her arm, and portraits of the two of them together, painting the town red.

"Had to give it up, for the most part, once I became the King." Winston sounded wistful. "Still, wouldn't trade a thing and all that.")

And Jack thought, as he wandered through the lot on his way to the Deuce's office, that being a film star didn't seem like such a bad way to pass the time.

Which is why Jack found himself there, sitting in a smoke-filled office and listening to the biggest movie producer in Wonderland go on about his new film, in which Jack would apparently be starring.

("You don't need me to… audition, or anything?" Jack had asked, somewhat dubiously.

"Are you kidding? Jack Heart—your name alone is gonna sell a million tickets, maybe two million. Just you wait, kid, you're gonna break hearts. Uh. No disrespect intended.")

"EDDIE!" bellowed the Deuce. "EDDIE, I SWEAR TA GOD—ah, there you are, sweet cheeks!" His angry scowl turned into a smarmy, satisfied grin as a pair of legs came into view. Jack tried to keep his composure as possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen slinked into the Deuce's office.

"Hello, Deuce." Her voice lilted in a practiced sound, a tone one part false warmth carefully covering the other part complete derision. Her eyes slid across the room to meet Jack's, and he could see her shoulders roll back and one leg crook at the knee to poke out the side of her skirt. "You must be Jack Heart," she purred. "I've heard so much about you."

"And I, you," he responded courteously. He reached out a hand to hers and courteously bowed over it. "It's a pleasure."

"Outstanding!" the Deuce chuckled, puffing away expertly on his cigar. "The world's gonna go crazy for you kids. Just _crazy!_"

* * *

..

Their first picture together was a romantic comedy, charmingly simple and requiring absolutely no talent whatsoever. This, of course, wasn't that unusual for a Wonderland production - acting in Wonderland, like everything else, was completely dependent on Tea. Actors didn't really have to _act_ so much as just stand there and look pretty while they talked, since each production had it's own supply of ready-made Tea that they drank before each scene. As they filmed film after film, the public demanding more and more of the glamorous and romantic Jack Heart and the Duchess, he soon became used to taking shots of Arrogance, Regret, and Love every half hour.

At the same time, as weeks drifted by, Jack was also becoming quite used to having the Duchess in his company. He found, much to his surprise, that she was smart as a whip under all of the sparkles and blonde hair and breasts she used to keep her career afloat. Creative and manipulative, there was no man (or, when she had the occasion, no woman) who could resist her wiles, her carefully administered compliments, her shy requests. She was bold and spectacular and, he was sure, like no other woman he would find in Wonderland.

Several months after they'd first been introduced, Jack was in the middle of a publicity campaign for their newest film when he realized that he could no longer distinguish his normal feelings for the Duchess from his feelings after he had taken his Love dose.

On the day they announced their engagement, Jack looked at her, every single inch shining, from her brown eyes to her glossy blonde hair, cheeks flushed with excitement, and thought, _This must be love, what I'm feeling right now. It must be, and I am going to feel this way for the rest of my life._

That feeling of certainty hadn't lasted for as long as he'd hoped.

* * *

..

"I just received a missive from Five down in decorating," the Duchess said one morning over her makeup counter. "Apparently there was an extra statue that arrived with our order and no one knows where it came from. I don't suppose you have any opinion on whether or not we should keep it?"

Jack shrugged. "You can do whatever you like, my dear."

The Duchess stared into her mirror, lost in thought. "I suppose there's always room in the Hedge Maze... hmm. I'll have Five send it there, then. I'm sure the Hedge Keepers will find _somewhere_ to put it." She set down her makeup brush and looked over her shoulder at Jack, who was pretending not to struggle with the buttons on his shirt.

"Jack," she asked, "are you feeling okay?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just don't seem as _collected_ lately as usual. Also, you were tossing and turning in bed again last night."

He coughed. "Really? Perhaps you're mistaken."

"As someone who is _sharing_ your bed, I think I would know." She sighed. "Jack, it's been nearly five days, now."

"I've already told you, I'm sleeping fine."

"Yes, you _say_ that, but come look at yourself!" She grasped his arm and brought him over to her mirror. Jack looked askance at his reflection, all pale skin and haggard eyes. "You look exhausted!" The Duchess said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He brushed her off, walking briskly over to his tie rack and selecting one of the black ones at random. "I'm the King, sometimes I have a lot on my mind before I go to bed. Just put it out of your mind."

"Well, of _course_ I'm going to _worry_ about you," the Duchess huffed under her breath, coming over to take the tie out of Jack's tiredly fumbling fingers.

"Well, I don't need it," Jack snapped. He knocked her fingers away with a glare. "Now would you just leave me alone so I can _think_?"

The Duchess settled back on her heels, glaring at him sharply from beneath her dark lashes. She shook her hair back and walked out of the room without another word. Jack sighed and secured his tie around his neck, feeling as though he would regret that later. _Perhaps she's right,_ he thought. _I have been feeling particularly drained lately. I could send a request to the Court Physician to make me something…_

_But why?_ a voice in his head argued._ It's just a phase, it'll pass. She worries too much, she's ualways/u worrying about me too much, ever since she rescued me from the Eye Room…_

"It's as though she thinks I _need_ her or something," he grumbled, straightening invisible wrinkles in his suit. There was a small bell resting on his dresser – he picked it up and rang it. The response was gratifyingly immediate, as a Club rushed instantly into his room. "Send for Lory," he said, and the Club bowed before hurrying away.

Mad March had been his mother's favorite assassin – a man dedicated to the art of tracking and torture. He gave his jobs what he called _a personal touch_, loved to get his hands dirty, his arms elbow-deep in his victims' blood. Jack rarely had need for an assassin, of course, but sometimes you needed something taken care of, and when he did, Jack preferred a different approach. Something a little more elegant, a little more… subtle.

Lory, in comparison, ever got his hands dirty. He worked with nature, letting the rivers, the mountains, the birds and beasts do his dirty work without him ever having to even see the victim. Whereas the name Mad March had inspired fear throughout Wonderland, few people even realized that Lory existed. He was elegant, secret, and subtle. In other words, exactly what Jack wanted.

Jack had only just walked into the Throne Room when his doors opened, admitting Lory, unannounced and unattended by any of Jack's Clubs. This wasn't surprising, however - Lory's appearance was rather unsettling for most people, including Jack's staff. For one thing, he had no pupils in his eyes whatsoever, only large, ice-blue irises peering out of an otherwise human face. His hair, too, was inhuman: where normal human hair would be, Lory instead had blood-red feathers with razor-sharp tips, kept slicked away from his face and pointing out like porcupine quills off the back of his head. Jack assumed the feathers also covered his arms and legs, but he couldn't be sure – he had never seen Lory in anything but a tailored black suit.

"A quick arrival," Jack remarked from his seat on the throne. "I doubt my Club's scarab has even left the launch pad."

"You know I have my ways," Lory said with a small smile. His voice was deep, resonant, like an earthquake speaking.

"I expected a report before now – you're usually so… well, _prompt_." Jack raised an eyebrow.

"There was a problem."

"I don't care. Tell me you've taken care of the situation."

Lory cracked his neck, bending it to the side at an unsettling angle in doing so, before angling his chin back up to coldly meet the King's gaze. "I'm afraid not, sir."

A dead silence possessed the room.

"I want Hatter _dead_, Lory," Jack whispered menacingly.

Lory didn't respond.

Jack stood up, looking at the floor, his hands folded in front of him as calmly as though discussing the weather. He walked slowly over to where Lory stood. The heels of his shiny black shoes clicked against the marble floor and echoed around the room as he approached. He didn't stop until he was mere inches away, looking unflinchingly into Lory's empty eyes.

"_Five full days ago_ I commissioned you to take care of him and make it look like an accident. I didn't think that would be such a _difficult_ task for you - it's what you do _best_, isn't it!"

"I stand by my execution. That JubJub bird has been locked up in the Library for decades," Lory said, matching Jack's furious expression with a blank one of his own. "It was _starving_ for meat, there should have been no way he survived."

"Well, you'll have to try _harder_." There was a dangerous undercurrent to Jack's voice. He turned away, walking back to his Throne. "Hatter needs to be taken care of, and Alice is not to realize that it was a hired job."

"Perhaps if you told me _why_ he is being dispatched," Lory said. "I can only do so much with so little information."

Jack waved a hand impatiently. "Don't ask questions. Just do your job, and let me do mine."

Lory looked like he was going to say something, but thought better of it. "Certainly," he drawled. He turned around and was gone in an instant, no puff of smoke, no flash of light, the only evidence of his being there being the single blood-red feather on the floor marking where he'd stood.

Jack slumped back in his Throne, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. _I don't know_, he thought desperately. _I don't know why I'm doing this._

He sighed and reached for the summons bell. All of this was giving him a headache.

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	12. Chapter 12

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Alice woke up the next morning feeling somewhat disoriented. She wasn't in her bedroom, her alarm hadn't gone off for work, and _why did her arm hurt so badly_?

She looked up to see Hatter's hat, his "This Hat is Built for Action" hat, hanging on his wooden bed frame and remembered. _Oh yeah,_ she thought. _Yesterday… was not good._

She groaned and flipped onto her back, looking over at Hatter's sleeping face beside her. Alice always thought Hatter looked like a chipmunk when he slept – his lips parted just enough so that the bottoms of his large front teeth could be seen, his hair flung about every which way, his long lashes almost brushing his cheekbones. She lifted an idle finger to touch the place where his dimple would be, and his eyes blinked dizzily open at the contact.

He was _so_ adorable.

"Wha'ssa matter?" he mumbled, voice gravelly from sleep.

"Nothing," Alice assured him, snatching her hand back and trying to hide her blush. _Caught in the act._ "Sorry I woke you up."

He grunted and tightened his arm around her waist, bringing her closer and accidentally jostling her arm in the process. Alice hissed a breath through her teeth as a jolt of pain shot through her body, enough to give her a small headache.

Hatter looked worried. "Ah, sorry 'bout that."

"It's alright, as long as I don't move it. I'll probably keep it in a sling today, but it should be fine tomorrow." She paused, reconsidered. "Maybe the day after."

"You sleep alright, then?"

"Yeah." Alice wiggled out of his hold, feeling just a bit uncomfortable with all the attention. She hated being mothered by anyone but… well, her _mother_. She knew Hatter loved her, but when he fussed it was... well, it was just _weird_, and Hatter, sometimes, could be a _fusser_. "What time is it?" she asked, changing the subject.

Hatter checked one of the watches on a nearby shelf. "About eleven o'clock." He paused. "Of course, I have no idea whether that's _night_ or _day_…" He climbed out of bed and reached into a nearby box of linens. Pulling out a dark purple towel, he tied it into a sling and handed it to Alice as he walked by. "I'll be downstairs," he said. Picking up a stray pair of pants on the floor, he somehow managed to slide them on and up to his waist whilst simultaneously kicking open the hatch.

Hatter emerged at the bottom of the staircase to find Charlie still sleeping in his hammock, green book tucked protectively to his chest. The horses glanced up at Hatter's entrance, ears flickering curiously. There was light streaming in from the window, illuminating the floor in a dappled pattern – morning. Late morning. He scratched Pat idly on the nose, ambling over to the campfire and tearing up some more dead grass, starting the process of setting it alight. What he _really_ needed right now was a cup of _tea_.

Alice came into his field of vision just as he'd managed to balance the teapot on a pile of glowing embers. She was holding one of his shirts, wild paisley patterns dangling loosely from her hand, the silk bundled through her fingers. "While _I_ am accustomed to finding you shirtless in the kitchen making tea every morning," she said, "let's try not to scare Charlie to death, hmm?"

"Ha, ha," Hatter said, but he took the shirt anyway. She kissed his forehead, slinged arm bumping him in the shoulder as she did so.

"I wish we had a doctor here to look at that arm," he said, gesturing to it as Alice moved away to sit across from him. "It'll make it hard for your job at the studio if you can't throw people because your muscles healed funny."

Alice shrugged with her good shoulder, watching Hatter methodically fasten the buttons up his shirt. He always started his buttoning at the end, worked his way to the beginning, and then stopped. It was one of many things he did in a backwards manner, and Alice thought that this particular habit was one of the more charming ones. "Well," she said, poking the teapot closer onto the embers with a careful foot. "We've got the book now, so we can re-activate the Stone soon. Once we're home, I can go get it patched up."

"There are doctors in Wonderland, too," Hatter reminded her, somewhat defensively. "At the _Palace_, for instance? We can have one of Jack's physicians look at you while we're _there_."

Alice hummed in agreement. "I guess so. Still though, aren't _you_ excited to go home?"

A weird look crossed his face, immediately followed by a smile. "Yeah," he said. And it wasn't so much _what _he said as it was _how_ he said it that made Alice stiffen, swallowed up in a sudden rush of déjà vu.

_("You know, you could always visit my world. You might like it."_

_"Yeah…")_

She had seen that weird look and heard that oddly high tone of voice before… and Hatter hadn't followed her. The bottom dropped out of Alice's gut. _No,_ she thought. _It must just be a coincidence…_

Her thoughts were interrupted by the squealing of the teapot between them, prompting a loud yawn from the nearby Charlie.

"Tea, eh?" He rubbed his eyes and grunted as he half-twisted, half-fell out of his perch, hitting the ground with a jolting _thud_. "Excellent! That's precisely the thing." He tottered over and sat with them, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, clutching his teddy bear in one hand and the little green book in the other with a satisfied smile.

Hatter busied himself with preparing the teacups, pairing cups with spoons, milk, and sugar with the graceful ease of practice. "So, Charlie, how's that book? Got any of the information we need to fix that mirror?"

Charlie preened, the center of attention. "I'm certain of it." He balanced his teddy bear carefully against his teacup, opening the book with a grand gesture and bending over it like… well, like an old man. As he flipped the tissue-thin pages carefully, Alice drank her tea with nervous sips. Her knee jiggled impatiently.

"Whose journal was that again, Charlie?" she asked.

"These journals were kept by all the highest-ranking nobles in our Kingdom. This one was kept by the Knight in charge of the Mirror… and thus, of course, The Stone." He paused, peering closely at some cramped lettering on a page. "Found it!" he trumpeted. "Listen to this –"

_Date: Square-Grape-Five_

_The Looking Glass has begun to fail. The images in the glass move in odd shapes, flickering in and out of focus. It has never acted like this before in my lifetime, although when I was a boy I do remember my grandfather's mention of a prophecy concerning the Glass – I must consult the journals of my forefathers. Perhaps one of them will contain some information useful to me._

_Date: Triangle-Banana-Five_

_The journal of my grandfather has indeed yielded a story that can only be described as fantastical. His accounts of events one hundred years ago match exactly the condition the Glass is currently in – furthermore, it seems as though the Glass' odd behavior is only the presage of bad tidings. According to my grandfather, one day the Glass will stop altogether, and on that very same day the Stone of Wonderland will die as well. A Meteor that falls from the sky will somehow contain the power to connect our Looking Glass with other outside worlds, and a new Stone of Wonderland must be made from its contents in order for the Glass to become reactivated. I must go and warn the Red King._

_Date: Pomegranate-Star-Eleven_

_My grandfather wrote that we had to find Hope in the Tulgey Wood, for the Meteor could not be made into the Stone without Hope. After several hours of Council discussion, which included the Red King, and thorough consultation of my grandfather's journal, we have finally constructed a plan. The men that have joined this mission are fine Knights. I believe that our plan will succeed._

_Date: Apple-Beetle-Seven_

_My men have been on watch, scanning the Heavens for signs of a Meteor, for the past three days. Today, the Glass finally died, and not ten minutes later I received a missive from a Knight in the Tulgey Wood, detailing the Meteor's descent! With Hope, we discovered it and have obtained our new Stone of Wonderland. My men performed admirably, and will be rewarded for their services. The Stone will last for another one hundred years, and hopefully then my careful record in this journal will be of use to the new Keeper of the Glass. _

Charlie's eerie voice died away at these words, and the three of them stared thoughtfully into the glowing remains of the embers, clumps of dried grass that twisted slowly as they burned. Alice could feel the disappointment settling in her gut and the steadily growing throb of her shoulder, and tried to ignore them both. _Pessimism and complaining right now will help nobody, _she chastised herself.

"So I guess we're not going home today," she said, breaking the silence. She looked down at the (now cold) tea cupped in her palms. "Sounds like we've got to find this meteor first, right?"

"Those do indeed appear to be the instructions, yes."

"But those Knights were on the lookout for it," Hatter interrupted. "We weren't. The Meteor fell the same day the Glass broke, right? That was near a week ago, the Meteor could be anywhere!"

"Well, it's in the Tulgey Wood. At least we know that much," Alice reasoned, sounding a bit lame even in her own ears.

Exasperation was written all over Hatter's face. "Finding a rock the size of my thumbnail in a forest that covers a third of Wonderland. Sounds fantastic, let's just get started, shall we?"

"Don't get snippy with me!" Alice snapped, unapologetically dumping the dregs of her tea into the campfire and accidentally snuffing it out completely. "It's not like we have a whole lot of options."

"Alice, it can't be done!"

Alice stood up and Hatter followed suit. They glared at each other. From the corner of her eye, she could see Charlie sitting there, looking uncomfortable.

"Yes, it can." The expression on her face left no room for argument. "Hatter, we brought down the whole house of cards last time we were here, I'm pretty sure we can find a _rock_."

"Alice, I don't think you _understand_! D'you remember last time we were in the Tulgey Wood? _Hmm?_ We were attacked by a _Jabberwock_ within _five minutes_ of landing on shore! That place is _dangerous_, and _you_ are _injured_!"

Alice bristled. "I am not an _invalid_," she whispered dangerously.

Hatter looked at her, obviously conflicted, his lips tightening and eyes darting about in that way they did when he was thinking very hard. "Fine," he bit out. "Maybe, fine. But we'll need a _plan_."

Against her will, Alice's insides melted just the tiniest bit. She put her good hand on Hatter's cheek. "I'll be okay," she assured him firmly. "We _both_ will. This will be nothing compared to breaking into a Casino full of Suits, you know. We can _handle_ this. Besides, we've got no choice."

He laid his hand on top of hers, turning his head to kiss it briefly. "We wait until you're healed, first. That's the deal - healthy shoulder, _then_ endless searching in the monster-infested forest."

"Done."

Hatter heaved a long-suffering sigh and sat back down at the fire. "I don't like this."

"It _is_ a long shot," Alice admitted. "But it's all we've got." She yawned and headed back to the staircase.

"Where are you going?" Hatter called. Alice turned to look over her shoulder at him.

"I'm going up to bed," she said. "If I'm going to heal, I'll need my rest so I can start re-stretching the muscle later this evening."

Hatter watched, drumming his fingers against his knee impatiently, as the door to his room closed behind her. He looked furtively at Charlie, who was still examining the wall nearby as though it were endlessly fascinating.

"I'm going to take Bill out for a ride," Hatter said, standing abruptly and reaching for Bill's riding gear.

Charlie finally looked up at him, astonished. "But we're in the City," he said, confused.

"Yeah, well, I'll ride to the Lake and back or something," Hatter said impatiently. "Or… maybe I'll get something for dinner, who knows." He fastened the buckle on Bill's saddle rather harder than strictly necessary. "I just… I just need to get out of this place."

Charlie nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps you could go the post office," he suggested. "The King and Queen should be updated with our findings."

Hatter nodded curtly and clicked his teeth at Bill, urging him on with his lead. A minute later Charlie could hear the fading sounds of a horse trotting away. He looked down at his teddy, Percival, still balancing against the teacup.

"Domestic troubles," he said, with the air of someone very wise and knowledgeable about these sorts of things.

Percival fell off his cup.

* * *

..

Hatter rode Bill out of the City, towards the trail that circled around the Lake. The sun and air felt good on his skin – the City had been so polluted and full of smog when the Queen had ruled. It felt good to see blue sky above the treetops. _Jack must have cleaned the place up,_ Hatter thought idly. _Good for him._

He looked out over the Lake, letting his eye follow the path of a distant motorboat careening across the water.

_("The way I see it? I've only got one option."_

_"Which is?"_

_"Go back with you… to your world.")_

Hatter couldn't describe what he was feeling right now, and he didn't like it. He didn't usually run into things blindly. He snorted. _Hardly._ No, that was _Alice's_ area of expertise. Alice was the one who always went _looking_ for trouble, all Hatter could do was follow her and dig her out of whatever scrape she'd gotten herself into. But she was brave, and she was stubborn, and for all she said about adventure and boredom, Alice _hated _change. She would not take kindly to the idea of leaving her old life behind and starting anew in Wonderland. And, as he reminded himself, it wasn't so long ago when_ he_ thought the exact same thing. He'd been _aching_ for a reason to leave this place.

_Although,_ Hatter thought, looking out at the sparkling Lake and the clear blue sky. A flock of rockinghorseflies flew past, aiming toward a large patch of bright, fragrant flowers with petals the size of his hand. Bill bent his huge head down to munch on some of the grass at his feet. _I'm not sure either of us imagined a Wonderland like this._

He sat there for awhile, watching the rockinghorseflies play in flower nectar, until Bill's impatiently shifting weight jolted him back into reality. _Well,_ he thought, directing Bill towards the nearest seedy bar he remembered how to get to. _We have a new home now. All we have to do is get back to it._

* * *

..


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **My first Charlie chapter! ^_^ I hope you all enjoy it.

* * *

Hatter returned back at the teashop that night to what could _almost _be described as a homey atmosphere. Charlie was lying peacefully in his hammock, glasses precariously perched on the tip of his nose and reading out of the green book. Alice, on the other hand, sat in the rosy warmth of the fire slowly rotating her arm with a pained look on her face.

"Oi, hey!" Hatter said, a slight edge of worry to his voice. "Lemme help you!"

"I don't think it's that bad," Alice said as Hatter started unbuckling Bill's saddle. "I mean, it doesn't hurt as much to rotate it _now_ as it did five minutes ago, even."

"How long have you been messing with it?"

"…Maybe five minutes," she admitted. "The muscle feels good, though. Sore, yeah, but no shooting pains or anything like that."

"That's a good sign." Hatter knelt down next to her and laid a steadying hand on her shoulder as she rotated her arm in small forward circles. He was no doctor by any stretch of the imagination, but it didn't feel as though there was anything obviously damaged – he felt the muscle shifting roughly over the bone, rippling beneath his fingers, but no tears, knots or twists. "You're right," he said. "It feels like everything's fine in there."

Alice breathed out a sigh of relief, and Hatter kissed her on the cheek. "Oh, thank God," she said. "I'd be sunk if I ruined my throwing arm and got fired because my boss didn't believe I'd gotten attacked by a humongous, man-eating canary-horse. _That_ is a conversation I would like to _avoid_."

Hatter smirked and continued to help her rotate her shoulder, backwards this time. "Well, we'll see how you feel after sleeping on it, but I think we should be able to leave for the Wood tomorrow morning."

She turned her head to look at him, eyebrow quirked and a small smile playing over her lips. "And here I was expecting you to hold me hostage for at least another full day. Sounding so positive now? What happened to 'it can't be done'?" she asked, in a remarkably good impression of him.

Hatter rolled his eyes, but his dimple was flashing at her so Alice knew he was feeling pleased about _something_. "I rode out into the city while you were asleep. I might have… collected some information."

Oh, yes. That was definitely smugness she heard in his voice. "Information? From where?"

"Old Tim Toad. He's the owner and bartender at this pub I used to frequent."

Alice looked at him skeptically over her shoulder. "This isn't just another 'Carlotta St. Delaware' source, is it?"

Hatter narrowed his eyes. "Hey! Never underestimate a good, old-fashioned seedy pub for hearsay. _Everything_ passes though Old Tim Toad's. And I was a loyal patron back in the day, broke up quite a few fights getting out of control."

"Hmm. And probably started your fair share too, didn't you?"

"That's… beside the point," he said, ignoring Alice's knowing look, "In any case, Old Tim owed me one."

"So what did he have for us?"

"Apparently there've been whispers of a fire in the Tulgey Wood about a week ago. Most people seem to think it was a beast that'd gone mad, and have been avoiding the area in case it's still about."

Alice nodded thoughtfully. "Seems like quite a coincidence."

"That's what I think, too." Hatter straightened Alice's arm to the side and slowly started to raise it over her head, whispering apologies as she hissed in pain. "Anyways," he continued, lowering her arm again and repeating the action, bringing her arm straight out to the front. "Sounds as good a place to start as anywhere."

"Is it far away?"

"Of course. On the other side of the Wood, in fact."

"Of course." Alice sighed. "Do we have enough food and water?"

"Yeah, I think so. Jack and the Duchess gave us more than enough supplies when we left -- we're not even halfway through, but then again I have no idea how long we'll be searching. I wrote them a letter, by the way, updating them on the plan and asking for more supplies if they could get them to us. I figured they'd want to know."

"That was a good idea," Alice commented, sounding surprised.

"It was Charlie's," Hatter admitted. He put Alice's arm down at her side and closed his hand over hers where it lay at her knee. "I think that's probably enough for tonight," he said. "We'll see how it is by morning."

"Thank God," Alice said, turning around to face him. "I've been waiting to do _this_ again." She cupped his face in her hands and pulled him in for a kiss. He hummed appreciatively, their lips sliding together with the warm ease of familiarity.

"What was that for?" he asked as they parted.

"Thank you," Alice said seriously. "I know you don't like this idea."

Hatter sighed. "Kettle, you're _always_ going to be running straight into trouble. So I'll just have to get used to the knowledge that I'll ialways/i be right behind to back you up. And plan for you, because frankly you're rubbish at it." She smacked him on the arm and he grinned, reaching forward to run a hand through her hair. "We're a team, you an' me," he said absentmindedly, watching as the strands slid through his spread fingers.

"Yeah," she said, catching his empty hand before he could reclaim it. "I know." They smiled at each other, warm feelings bubbling up in Alice's chest.

Suddenly, Hatter tapped the brim of his hat as though he'd just remembered something. He turned his head to call over his shoulder. "Charlie! Do you think you can be ready to lead us through the Wood tomorrow?"

Charlie fumbled out of his hammock and stood at salute. "It would be an honor," he told them. "I am somewhat of an expert in my neck of the woods, if you'll pardon the expression." He chuckled at his own joke, and Alice and Hatter shot weary glances at each other. "And, from the little I was able to overhear of your conversation (not being an eavesdropper, me, a gentleman and all, but nevertheless this room is rather resonant), you have obtained some information as to the Meteor's mysterious whereabouts?"

"Southwest corner," Hatter said. "Apparently there was a fire there about a week ago. Sound familiar?"

Charlie's face fell, mouth snapping shut. He looked positively frightened at this prospect. "S- Southwest corner?" he asked. Hatter's eyes narrowed at this reaction, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Alice's expression doing the same.

"Is there something wrong, Charlie?" she asked.

His voice trembled ever-so-slightly as he responded with, "There are _beasts_ there, my lady Alice! Beasts far more dangerous and terrifying than any old Jabberwock, that's for blame sure! Beasts more dangerous than in your mind can conjure!"

Hatter sighed and rubbed a hand over his weary face. "Figures."

Alice set her chin defiantly high. "Well, we'll just have to be careful, I suppose. Do you know a safe path through it, Charlie?"

"Well…" Charlie hesitated. "Yes. But –"

"Great," Alice said. "So we'll just be careful, then. Go in, find the Meteor as quickly as possible, and get out. If the Knights in that journal could do it with only hope, then so can we." She smiled encouragingly and stepped forward to place a steady hand on Charlie's shoulder. "Good thing we've got a first-class Knight of our own."

Charlie smiled weakly and Alice turned away. "You coming up to bed, Hatter?" she asked, already heading toward the staircase.

Hatter, meanwhile, was looking at Charlie with a steady, suspicious glare. "Yeah," he said absentmindedly. "I'll be up in a minute." Alice nodded and shut the door behind her, the click echoing ominously around the quiet room. Hatter didn't move his eyes from Charlie, who stood shifting uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Stop _looking_ at me like that!" he complained finally, turning abruptly and shuffling back toward the fire. Hatter followed.

"Charlie," he said, voice low. "When I wake up tomorrow morning, am I still going to find you here?"

Charlie carefully avoided Hatter's eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about," he sniffed. "I'm past those days."

Hatter knelt down uncomfortably close, still keeping his voice low and perceptive gaze carefully leveled at Charlie. "Really? Are you _sure_? Because of all people, I know _exactly_ how hard old habits can die, and I'm thinking you might be considering a relapse, old man."

Charlie didn't say anything. Hatter sighed and settled down on the floor with the obvious intention of waiting, looking at Charlie with an expression of impatience.

"I don't know what to do," Charlie said softly after a minute, hefting the little green book Hatter now noticed was still clutched in his hand. "I'm afraid to go into that place, it's true. But I'm also afraid that if I don't, I'll shame my ancestors. But even if I _go_… and _fail_…" he sighed. "There's a lot more riding on this than just a Stone, you know. I've been reading this journal, and I can't _find_ it anywhere… but can feel it in my bones. There's something this Knight wasn't telling us, and I'm afraid of the reason why."

Hatter didn't say anything. Charlie's face was cast downward, the fire's light reflecting in a warm glow off his face despite the darkness that burrowed into the lines of his eyes and corners of his mouth. The thin material of his pajamas draped sadly over the thin bones of his arms and shoulders; the longer Hatter studied him, the more the firelight seemed to shine straight through him, as though he was made of yellowed paper.

_This man,_ Hatter thought, watching Charlie's thin fingers flicker over the edges of the green book, _has lived a very long life._

Suddenly, Charlie's face turned upward, his expression angry and posture rigid. His fingers tightened over the book's spine and he stood, hurling it across the room. It smacked against the wall and slid face-open down onto the floor, pages bending under its weight in a way that looked almost _painful_. _"It's not fair!"_ Charlie yelled at the book. "It's not fair that you all go and leave this for _me_ to take care of!" He slumped back down next to Hatter and buried his face in his hands.

"What will I do?" he asked softly. "What will I do if I _can't live up to everything they left behind?_"

Hatter swallowed. "Charlie," he said, leaning forward and putting a hand on his shoulder. "The Knights are _gone_. Yeah, they were your family, but _you_ are not responsible for keeping a dead civilization at peace. I mean," he shrugged. "They're already _there_, right? But me an' Alice –" he tightened his grip on Charlie's shoulder ever-so-slightly, "you're a part of _our_ family, or as good as one. And, you know, we don't _care_." He rolled his eyes. "I mean, let's be honest, at this point we're _all_ running into this more or less blindly. We fail or we succeed, it's as a group, and… you know, we'll take it as it comes. So don't sweat it."

Charlie looked up at him, expression indescribable. Confused and hopeful and… grateful, maybe? Hatter shifted uncomfortably, taking his hand off Charlie's shoulder. He wasn't really great with this whole touchy-feely kind of thing. "Well," he said, standing back up and brushing off his hands. "We'll all head out in the morning?"

"Yes," Charlie said. He'd directed his gaze back to the fire, hiding that indescribable expression from Hatter's further investigation. "We'll all head out in the morning."

Hatter nodded and headed over to the staircase, shutting the door behind him. Charlie started going through the motions of putting out the campfire, stopping to admire the pattern of the last glowing ashes. _Family_, he thought. _Except they're going to leave me too, of course. They're young, they have their lives to lead, you know. Not their fault, not their fault…_

The room was quiet, save for the gentle munching sounds of the horses. Charlie stood up and walked over to where the green book lay on the floor. He picked it up and flipped it open to the front page. _Journal of the White Knight_, it read in flowing script. _He would have been in his forties at the time,_ Charlie thought. _So young, and still a bigger man than I._

He dusted off the book jacket and laid it on Hatter's desk, among the scattered papers and forgotten tea things. Curling Percival to his chest instead, he climbed into his hammock and drifted off to sleep.

Hatter climbed into his bedroom to find Alice already in bed, casting her eyes around the room lazily. "How did you find out about dinosaurs?" she asked without preamble, gesturing to the collection of figurines lining one of his bookshelves.

"What do you mean, _find out about them_?" he asked with a grin. "Dinosaurs _live_ here."

"You're joking!"

"What, are Oyster scientists still teaching you all that fiery meteor business?" he chuckled, unbuttoning his shirt (starting at the beginning, going to the end, then stopping). "The imaginations of Oysters are truly incredible, you know that? They'll accept _anything_ as fact. 'S part of why you've always seemed so _exotic_ to us, I think."

"Ugh, don't talk about fiery meteors," Alice groaned. "Speaking of which," she asked as Hatter climbed into bed, "you went and talked to Charlie, didn't you?"

He hesitated. "Yes."

"Is everything going to be okay?" she asked carefully. And Hatter knew then that Alice shared his concerns, but hadn't wanted Charlie to know that she'd doubted him even for a second. Alice faith was precious to Charlie. It was important that he think Alice trusted him absolutely – they both knew that.

"Oh, you know," Hatter said, wrapping his arms around her carefully. "Death and destruction, monsters and demons… but yeah, I think it'll all be fine."

"Good," she sighed. "Thank you, Hatter."

"Anytime."

She turned off the lamp.

* * *

..


	14. Chapter 14

..

The Tulgey Wood had been a staple of children's nighttime stories for endless Wonderland generations. Every boy and girl had been warned, at some point in their rebellious toddlerhood, "Now you had better behave, or I'll send you out into the Wood and _goodness knows_ what'll happen to you there!" Tulgey Wood, simply put, was the _home_ of nightmares. Every time a child dreamed something strange or frightening, it found a home in the Wood… so you can believe that only the very brave or very stupid ventured into it voluntarily.

Yet it hid still more than just monsters and stories. For all the secrets that lay concealed within the Wood, one couldn't step within its limits without feeling that it was somehow… _watching_ them. Emerald green trees, taller than skyscrapers, filled mountainsides with fog trailing from their tips to join the low-hanging clouds that hovered above. Lakes and streams, dotted with slimy, moss-covered rocks perfect for jumping and sliding on, snaked through the landscape as though they themselves owned the place, covering and observing their domain with churning currents and water cold enough to feel like a slap to the face.

Lory had no fear of the things that lived and watched in the Wood – in fact, he _ruled over_ them, could command with a nod of his head or a raise of his eyebrow. Lory was the thing that the _nightmares_ feared. So he sat in the trees as though they were as open to him as a park bench, and he waited.

Before long, a small gray bird flew past – a pidgel. Pidgels were used by the Wonderland postal services as chosen mail carriers, being very strong for their size, very fast, and not nearly as talkative as some of the other birds in Wonderland, so therefore much less likely to be killed by their patrons on accounts of being "annoying as all hell". This particular pidgel, by the name of Paul Pidgel, was a veteran. He particularly prided himself on his sense of direction. In fact, any other day he would have darted through the trees, safely hidden in the fog, until he reached his destination. But this, sadly, was not Paul Pidgel's day.

Lory reached out a hand through the mist and crooked one long, pointed finger.

Paul Pidgel's bright black eyes lost their shine and turned into dull, dark pits. The change was subtle, but immediate, and with one flap of his wings Paul Pidgel turned abruptly out of his previous trajectory and towards Lory's perch. He settled himself calmly in Lory's outstretched palm and waited. As protective as Pidgels were of their mail, he didn't even twitch when Lory took a single letter from his pouch and opened it.

Lory read silently and quickly. Upon reaching the end, he folded it back up, placed it back into Paul's pouch, and tossed him into the air like a juggling ball. Halfway up, Paul Pidgel blinked the dull pain out from behind his eyes, shook it off as the beginnings of a headache, and flew on toward his destination. Lory watched him go.

He was smiling.

...

The Duchess had had a long day. The morning's crisis had been the female flamingos that lived in the gardens, all of whom had happened to reach their rather aggressively territorial nesting season at the same time. None of the Palace Spades could come within a hundred feet of the croquet grounds without getting quite viciously attacked, and after many failed attempts, the Duchess had been forced to simply send them all home until the nesting season ended. Later in the afternoon, she received news that the drought from three months ago had finally caught up with the farmers in Black Square Two – all of their tomato crops were ruined, and it was up to the Duchess to figure out a way to plan a new tomato distribution schedule accommodating for the shortage. Then, adding insult to injury, she had broken the heel of her shoe tripping ungracefully up a staircase.

She sat down for dinner that evening, tired and irritable, and as Seven ran up to her holding that day's mail, she shot him a dirty look. "There had better be no bad news in that stack, Seven."

He bowed quickly, looking nervous, and scurried away. The Duchess sighed and reached for the letter sitting on the top of the stack. Glancing at the return sender, she smiled.

Halfway through reading the letter, Jack walked in to join her at dinner. "Jack," she said, "We got a letter from Hatter. They've made it out of the library, and they're all fine."

"Excellent," he said, sounding strained as he sat down across from her. The Duchess looked up at him, concerned as always by his haggard appearance – she had noticed this morning the few shining gray hairs on his temples – but declined saying anything. "What did they find?"

The Duchess turned her attention back to the letter and read on. "One of the journals mentions a…" she paused. "Hmm. A _meteor_? How odd. It's fallen into the Tulgey Wood, apparently. They're going to go find it, and we can make a new Stone out of that. Hatter is requesting more supplies sent to his teashop by tomorrow morning for the journey." She folded up the letter and put it back in its envelope for safekeeping. "Well, that's simple enough. The City isn't far from here. I'll mention it to Five after dinner, we'll send someone tonight." She smiled. "Sounds like they've got the situation well in hand."

Jack hadn't touched his food, hadn't said a word, hadn't even straightened the wrinkle out of his tie. He just sat there, still as stone. The Duchess' smile faltered. "…Jack?"

"Fantastic," he snapped at last, pouring water out of a carafe and into his glass. "Sounds like quite an adventure, soon they'll all be _home_. Wonderful."

"Jack?" The Duchess frowned. "Jack, are you alright?"

The agitated creases on his forehead smoothed themselves away. "Sorry," he said curtly, taking a careful sip of his water.

The Duchess waved to the Clubs at the door, dismissing them. Although at least a few of them were clearly hesitant, eager for gossip to trade in the kitchens, they all obeyed and exited the room. Once she was sure they were alone, the Duchess moved out of her seat and crossed to sit next to Jack.

"Jack," she started, reaching to smooth away his hair but stopping when he flinched at her touch. "Jack, you haven't been _yourself_ lately, and it's gone on long enough. You need to tell me what's wrong." Her eyes were pleading, one hand resting on the table gripping a stray napkin rather harder than strictly necessary. "Jack, the two of us can make whatever is bothering you _go away_, I _promise_, but I can't _do_ anything if you don't confide in me."

"You can't help me."

"For heavens' sake, Jack," she snapped. "You had better stop acting like a baby and start acting like a husband or so help me—"

He looked at her, his facial expression carefully guarded but his eyes apologetic. "I'm worried about Alice's safety. She's out there, in danger, and I'm _worried_ about her, alright?"

The Duchess let her hands fall into her lap, her words dying on her lips. "Well, of course you are," she said carefully, calmly, deliberately neutral. "Aren't we _both_ worried about her? About _all_ of them? But that doesn't explain--"

"Don't start thinking you can rationalize away my emotions, Duchess!" he scowled. She frowned.

"Jack, I wasn't—"

"We don't live that way any more! I have my free will you know, I can _worry_ about _Alice!_"

"That's why you're like this? Irritable, half-dead, nearly falling over with exhaustion?" the Duchess said, rising from her seat. Her gaze moved to his silvery-blonde hairs and baggy eyes. "You expect me to believe that all this is out of _platonic worry_? Jack, do I really seem _that gullible_ to you?"

"Yes! I mean –" He sighed and rested his elbows on his knees, burying his head in his hands. "I knew you wouldn't like this."

Slowly, she turned and walked away from the table, taking a moment to compose herself. Her head felt like it was spinning, trying to follow his moods, his train of thought. "I don't suppose you'd be this worried if _I_ just up and wandered off, Jack?" she asked, her tone cutting, all softness gone.

He stood and, in one stride, crossed the distance between them, turning the Duchess gently until she faced him. "Of course I would," he said with absolute certainty. He looked at her with those big blue eyes, tired and somehow… trapped. He leaned closer, whispering urgently. "_Please trust me._" He was practically begging. "Duchess, _please_."

Duchess shook her head, confused, worried, and at a loss for words, before slowly turning around and exiting the room.

Jack waited until he heard the door shut with a final _click_ before giving in to the confusion and frustration pounding in his head, in his blood. He roared in anger, a harsh, bestial sound that ripped from his throat and made his lungs ache, slamming both his fists on the table hard enough to hurt. The glassware rattled dangerously, and one precarious glass fell off the table and shattered on the marble floor. Jack sank to his knees, nearly in a fetal position, cradling his head in his hands.

His _head_… why did his head _hurt_ so much?...

**"LORY,"** he bellowed, his voice rough. The continued silence of the dining room was his only response, but by the time he had regained his composure and raised himself to a standing position, Lory was sitting in one of the seats at the table, sipping a cup of tea calmly as though he had always been there.

Lory raised an eyebrow at Jack's disheveled appearance and reached to a nearby place setting, picking up a stray cup and holding it out to him. "Clean cup?" he asked with a smirk.

Jack grabbed the cup out of his hand, setting it back in its place and shooting Lory his best look of complete derision. "You've got a lot of cheek for hired help," he spat.

Lory schooled his expression into one of quietly mocking servitude that clashed oddly with his low, rumbling voice. "Indeed. What can I do for you, Your Majesty?"

"They're going into the Tulgey Wood."

"So I've heard."

"They know about the meteor."

"I've heard out about that, too."

"So listen to me, Lory, and listen _well_," Jack said, his voice low and urgent. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the tabletop. "They _must not find that meteor_. Do you understand me?"

Lory blinked his pupil-less eyes at Jack dispassionately, reaching a hand reflexively back to brush at his red-feathered hair. "I find your lack of faith in my skills extremely insulting, Your Majesty."

"You've failed me before."

"But this is a _different situation_," Lory said wryly. "The Tulgey Wood is my _home_, and as such I can command every rock and breathing being in it. I assure you," he said, standing to his full height and brushing invisible dust off his business jacket, "Hatter will not leave that forest alive."

"And Alice will be safe."

In the interest of maintaining professional appearances, Lory fought hard to suppress an eye-roll. "Yes, the lady Alice will remain unharmed. The other companion, however, I make no promises toward – he seems the type to interfere in a battle, very unpredictable. I only say this to give you fair warning--"

Jack waved him off. "He's an old man -- I don't care. Do whatever you need to do. Just be sure that the job gets _done_. They _cannot_ be allowed to find that meteor."

Lory nodded curtly. "Understood." Then Jack blinked, and Lory was gone, leaving only a red feather in his teacup.

Jack sighed and sat back down at the table, feeling sick to his stomach and thinking that sleep, tonight, would be a long way off.

..


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** I'm sorry to break my schedule, y'all, but I'm going to be taking a very short hiatus. Hopefully, I'll only be skipping one or two weeks. I'm just feeling a little burnt out working on this fic for so long, and while I've been working on it I've simultaneously developed only about a zillion other ideas. I'm just going to work on a couple one-shots or two-or-three-bits, reinspire myself, charge my batteries, and then get started on this one fresh. ^_^ So, if you haven't already, **PLEASE ADD THIS FIC TO YOUR STORY ALERTS!** So many of you have, I can't TELL you how thrilled that makes me! ^_^_ I love you all SO MUCH_! I'd hate for any of you to miss what's coming up, I've got answers for all your questions just sitting inside of my head.... bwa ha ha...

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..

The morning arrived sooner than Hatter felt possible. Upon waking, he frowned at the unfamiliar sensation of cold air on his leg, which had slipped out some time overnight to hang off the side of the bed. He grimaced and curled his legs back up beneath him, lest it be exposed to the elements now drifting in from his open floor hatch.

Hatter jolted instantly awake with a sudden flood of realization, looking now at the hatch with a renewed sense of alarm buzzing all the way to his fingertips. He had _closed_ that hatch before going to bed last night, he _knew_ it. And here was Alice, sleeping right here next to him. Who else would have—

Charlie poked his head up through the gap, at first facing the wrong way but turning around to find Hatter, awake. Charlie's face lit up.

"Splendid!" he said with a grin. "It's about time, I was just about to come and alert you two. I do not like to repeat myself, but you two are quite the _laziest_ of advent—"

"Charlie," Hatter mumbled, rubbing a hand over his two-days-unshaven face and wincing. Alice stirred at his side, and Hatter sent her a quick mental apology for waking her up… but honestly, if _he_ had to be awoken by Charlie at some godforsaken hour, than she should share in his pain. "What time is it?"

"Seven o'clock in the morning!" Charlie told him cheerfully. "Rise and shine, my good man! We have work to do! Tally ho and whatnot!" He chuckled and his head disappeared back down the hatch like an overexcited prairie dog.

"You'd think it was Christmas," Alice mumbled blurrily into the crook of her elbow, flung across her face as if to shield her from the day. Hatter groaned in agreement and flopped back into his pillow.

"Huzzah!" he could hear Charlie yell gleefully in the distance. "Rations!"

...

Alice felt almost sad to leave the teashop, it had become so familiar in the days they'd been there – but once she felt the sun on her face, got an eyeful of the blue sky above, and could feel the cool air prickling the hairs on her now sling-less arm, she couldn't help but grin and tighten her arms around Hatter's waist.

"Happy to be out?" he asked with a wry smile.

"You have no idea." Alice rested her chin on his shoulder as they rode out of the city, trying to ignore the dark green line of trees in the distance that marked the beginning of the Wood. Instead, she looked out at the tall grasses bordering the Lake, the bunches of flowers dotting the landscape with riots of violently clashing colors. She actually did a double-take upon noticing a weeping willow that actually had _water dripping off its leaves_, even though there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

As they approached the Wood, Charlie looked up at the sun, shielding his eyes with a gloved hand. His moustache twisted in thought and he readjusted their course so that they broke through the perfect line of trees on a diagonal… completely ignoring the well-beaten path that began two feet away.

"Er, Charlie?" Alice asked nervously. "We're not taking that path?"

"Believe you me, Lady Alice," he told her, tapping his nose knowledgeably. "The path is not always the safest way through danger. For goodness' sakes, I've lived my whole life _off_ the beaten path!"

He chortled and spurred on Guinevere, completely missing Hatter's look of mild panic. Alice patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.

They rode deeper into the Wood, sometimes enjoying being bathed by dappled sunlight and accompanied by the chirping of birds Alice could hear but not see, no matter how intensely she searched the treetops. At other times they would suddenly and without warning enter parts of the Wood so dark that they had to tie their horses together with a rope so they wouldn't get separated. And through most of it, she and Hatter talked about everything and nothing at all just to pass the time, the drone of Charlie's "_Heeeeeey, nonny nonny…_" providing a familiar counterpoint to their conversations.

"We're _not_ getting a puppy."

"Oh, come on!" Hatter said in a voice that was very near to a whine. "Just a mutt? We could adopt one, like from one of the shelters you told me about in your world."

"We're _not_ getting a puppy."

"I would take care of it, even. You _know_ I would."

"We have enough big, brown eyes in our apartment, thank you very much. We are _not_ getting a puppy."

"We could name it Spade!"

"Hatter, we are _not_ getting a puppy!" But by now she was holding back a laugh even as she said it. Hatter twisted around to look at her and grinned. She rolled her eyes, still smiling against her will. "_No!_" she affirmed.

They rode for awhile in silence. Alice pursed her lips.

"…Now a _cat_, maybe."

Hatter groaned. "I should have guessed you'd be a _cat_ person."

"What's wrong with cats? They're independent, they don't need to go outside constantly, they're warm and cuddly—"

"Are you _serious?_" He asked, twisting around again to look at her disbelievingly. "Cats are _not_ cuddly, they'll hiss and bite you as soon as look at you."

"That's not true!"

"It _is_ true, cats are _mean_," he said, with a note of finality. They rode on for a bit longer, thinking.

"Now, a _hedgehog_, on the other hand…"

Alice's exclamation of surprise was cut short when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a dark, familiar-looking stone blob. She remembered that blob – when they'd trotted by earlier, she wondered out loud where a humongous rock like that could have come from when there were no mountains or cliffs nearby. Hatter had shrugged and told her it was "a Wonderland thing," which she was beginning to suspect was his response to anything he didn't know the answer to. Her good mood fizzled away, replaced by a dull, sinking feeling of uncertainty that she had become frustratingly accustomed to. "Charlie," she called ahead. "That's the same humongous boulder we passed this morning."

"Eh?" he called, his armor clanking as he twisted around in his saddle to get a good look at her. He followed the direction of her pointed finger, aimed at the boulder in question. "Oh," he said, sounding flustered. "Well, erm… look at that."

"Fantastic," Hatter muttered under his breath, reaching up to absently readjust his hat. "We've been riding around in one gigantic _circle_ for the past three hours. Charlie—"

"Well, we must be at least _near_ the center of the Wood, so we must be _close_. Or close-_ish_. No matter," Charlie interrupted loudly, spurring Guinevere forward. "We will not be deterred, comrades! I will simply ask for more specific directions."

"Who are we going to _ask_?" Alice was looking at him warily, wondering if perhaps he had finally cracked this time. They hadn't seen a single living soul all morning. Charlie continued trotting ahead, blissfully ignoring her and singing "Hey Nonny Nonny" as though they had never stopped. "Hatter?" Alice asked, looking at him curiously. He looked unexpectedly pensive – Alice had expected annoyed, resigned, exasperated, even perhaps _mutinous_ -- but not this _tense fear_ clearly written all over his face.

"I think I know where he's taking us," he said, twisting back around to look Alice straight in the eye. He even pointed for good measure. "Don't say a _word_, and don't touch a _thing_," he cautioned quickly, turning back around to give Pat another whap of the reins.

Alice could feel her muscles tensing up in alarm, feeding off the fight-or-flight vibes coming off of him in waves. "Hatter?"

"I think he's going to the Flower Garden," he said ominously.

Charlie turned around upon hearing this and saluted. "Quite right, Harbinger."

"Charlie, why go _there?_" Hatter asked. "You _know_ how they treat outsiders—"

"Well, then," Charlie interrupted grandly. "I suppose you should consider our little band fortunate that _I_ am not a _outsider_." He sniffed and curled his beard briefly around his finger with a little smile. "Well… not as such, anyway."

Hatter lifted his eyebrows disbelievingly. "You've dealt with them _before_?"

"At camp, you asked if I knew any shortcuts." Charlie gestured with his hand. "_This_ is it. I had hoped not to _need_ it, of course, but there you go. I have promised the Lady Alice that I would use all the resources at my disposal, and so I shall." He turned his back to them, swaying gently back and forth with Guinevere's stride.

Alice laid a hand on Hatter's shoulder, reclaiming his attention. "What is the Flower Garden?"

Hatter took a deep, steadying breath. "Those things are treacherous, they'll try to talk you in circles if they think you're an easy mark for it. They're experts at talking forever and saying _nothing_. Lures you into their trap, you see. Makes people think they're stupid and harmless. You know, it used to be they'd just call you names, insult you if you wandered in." He shook his head. "They've gotten much more aggressive since people have stopped wandering into the Wood willy-nilly. They like their privacy, see." He snuck a glance behind him to make sure Alice was still listening. She was, lips drawn in a tight line. "If they get close enough, they'll eat you whole."

She gulped. "Wait, _why are we going there!_"

"They're treacherous, but they ido/i know everything about the Wood," Hatter admitted. "I mean, let's face it, there are flowers _everywhere_, whether they can talk and eat people or no. If there was something in the Wood that wasn't supposed to be, they'd be the ones to ask."

The central parts of the Wood, it turned out, contained extravagantly large stretches of swampland. The ground made sucking, slopping, bubbling noises as they passed, humongous bubbles of swamp gas occasionally rising to the surface to pop and spray slime everywhere within radius and scaring the horses. For their part, Pat, Bill, and Guinevere picked their way through the muddy, mossy ground with obvious hesitation, periodically shaking their hooves and flanks as though trying to clean them off (with little success). They rode deeper and deeper into the forest, the sunlight dimming as they went and eventually becoming a dull, grey haze cast over the landscape. It didn't help the ambiance.

Eventually, Alice spotted bright pinpricks of color in the distance that grew steadily larger as they approached. "Is that it?" she indicated with a nod of her head. Hatter nodded and looked like he was going to caution her again, but Alice interrupted him, repeating back his "don't speak, don't touch" warnings with an uncanny impersonation of his accent that made Charlie snicker but Hatter grimace.

Nevertheless, Alice did find herself at rather a loss for words upon approaching the giant flowerbed. If she looked straight ahead of her, it looked like any other part of the forest, except perhaps a bit paler shade of green. The stalks were big enough around to pass as small trees, the heads of the flowers themselves sitting nearly ten feet tall. Each flower's petals were tightly curled in, like a bud, making it impossible for Alice to guess at their true size. She poked Hatter in the side.

"Why are they all closed up?" she whispered.

"I think they're asleep," Hatter answered, also keeping his voice low. Alice redirected her attention to Charlie's loud dismount of his horse, armor clanking as he stumbled toward the stalk of the nearest flower. It had a bright red bulb at the top where its petals were tucked in, and its leaves were black at the tip. Alice could feel her muscles tense up with Charlie's every step, unconsciously preparing to fight or flee upon the first hint of danger.

Charlie looked as though he were about to knock on one of their stalks, but reclaimed his hand just in time. He held his hands carefully behind his back and cleared his throat gently instead. "Excuse me," he said. One or two of the flower's petals began to unfurl. "Good afternoon, ladies! My name is Charles Eustace Fotheringay LeMalf—"

"Exc_uuuuuuu_se me!" screeched a voice with an extremely prominent Southern accent. Alice's eyes snapped up, suddenly riveted on the bright yellow center of a red flower with petals the approximate length and thickness of baseball bats. The flower had a _face_, right there in front of her, with squinty eyes, big round cheeks and a mouth currently twisted in annoyance. "What ARE y'all doin' here? Wakin' me up, bangin' around wit'cha armor 'n all? Can'tcha see I 's a'_sleepin'_?"

As she spoke, other flowers began to awaken, unfurling their petals and looking around for the noisy culprit. "I say," said a sunflower with a posh Victorian-sounding lilt, gesturing at Charlie with a curled tendril. "Look how the little seedling has _grown_ since he was last here! And so _shiny_."

"Probably non-recyclable," said a baby blue dandelion poof in a patch of its (presumably) brothers and sisters all nodding in agreement. "He'll be sitting here on our roots until Time forgot, not even with common courtesy to decompose. I'm telling you girls, _times_ have _changed_. Why, when I was just a patch—"

They all groaned. "Oh, don't start _that_ again," said the sunflower. "You think _everything_ is non-recyclable. He looks completely organic to _me_."

"And look at his companions!" Alice turned to look at an orange sunburst with bright red lips, feeling like her head was spinning trying to follow so many voices. "Such floppy leaf work, I have _never_ seen…"

"That front one's got all the markings of a real pansy," rumbled a gruff, New-York-accented voice from a clump of daisies, although Alice couldn't identify the individual speaker. Hatter straightened up in his seat, affronted ("Oi!"), but Charlie just coughed loudly, settling down the din of voices somewhat.

"Pardon me," he huffed, "but we didn't come here to be insulted!"

"Well, _we_ didn't come here to be woken up by some crazy ol' coot in a tin can!" retorted the red baseball-bat flower. "'S flat rude, 's what it is! Didn't yo' mama grow you proper?"

"I'm simply seeking directions," Charlie asked calmly. Alice noted how careful he was to not engage any of the flowers in direct conversation. "There was a fire in the area, and we're trying to locate its source. Would you be so kind as to point us in its direction?"

The whole garden became eerily silent. If it hadn't been for the electricity of the tension in the air, Alice might have thought they had all gone back to sleep, they were so still.

"You're _looking_ for that?" said the blue dandelion. "On _purpose_?"

"No, he's certainly _not_," said the Victorian sunflower. "He couldn't be. We simply won't _let_ him!"

A rumbling of agreement swept over the garden like a wave, at first ominously quiet… but already Pat and Bill were starting to fidget and shy away, snorting anxiously and struggling against Hatter's calming noises and tight hold on the reins in their attempt to make a quick exit. Even Charlie looked frightened as he hurriedly mounted Guinevere, already backing away. The flowers' voices grew in both volume and intensity, encouraged by panic, their voices now yelling in a cacophony of unintelligible threats and screeches.

"Retreat!" Charlie moaned, and Hatter kept right on his tail as they galloped hurriedly away, white-knuckled and breathing hard. Alice would chastise herself for this moment later, but she couldn't resist turning around to get one last look at the garden of flowers… their irises now stretching open to reveal tiny, numerous, glistening teeth.

...


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** I'm back! And not only rested, but I really love my next few chapters, AND I think I'll be able to post about twice per week! ^_^ W00t. I hope y'all enjoy!

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..

They rode until the jeering, screeching sounds were far behind them, and then they rode still further. The sound of horse hooves furiously pounding the forest floor thundered in Alice's ears and shook her whole body, a steady rhythm that didn't do much to hide the obvious panic held by everyone in their party.

"Charlie!" she yelled ahead. "Charlie, we have to _stop_! We'll just get even more lost the farther we ride!"

"She's right, Charlie!" Hatter yelled in agreement. Charlie made no outward indication he had heard them, but reigned in Guinevere at the next clearing they came across.

"Well _that_ was successful!" Alice dismounted her horse with a scowl, trying to ignore the way her hands were still shaking. "I can't believe how quickly they just… _turned_ on us!"

"I did warn you," Hatter said, patting Bill on his trembling flank and leading him over to the stream for a drink. "Flowers are dangerous, they'll turn on you in a second."

"No," Charlie said. He was insistent, his expression grave but stubborn. "The Flowers are fickle, I admit, but their behavior just now…" He shuddered, his armor clanking. "I've never witnessed such behavior. Whatever that stone is, it's certainly got them spooked."

Alice sighed and reached up to rub small circles at her temples, a vain attempt to fight off the headache she felt coming. "Well, do we have any other options, Charlie? What can we do?"

"I don't know," he admitted. Gaze fixed on the middle distance in abstraction, he spoke hesitantly. "I— I was _certain_ that the Flowers would be able to help us—"

"They can," a small, unfamiliar voice said. "They just don't want to."

The three companions froze. Alice's eyes found Hatter's, who shook his head. Charlie followed suit.

Trying to move as little as possible, Alice scanned the clearing with wide, sharp eyes, but there was nothing there that shouldn't have been. Just trees, grass, and flowers—

"I'm down here!"

_Flowers._

Three heads swiveled madly, turning in unison toward a single orange daisy that had been previously unnoticed. "What did you say?" Hatter demanded.

"I said that the Flowers _could have_ helped you."

The three of them looked at each other uncertainly before approaching the lone Flower. "Explain, please," Charlie insisted, bending over to speak to the Flower directly. It was very small, its fully outstretched petals perhaps only the size of Alice's palm.

"They're hiding it." Its voice was vacant and dreamlike, as though it were talking to itself. Alice thought it was a good match with the blank, rather stupid expression on its tiny face. "The path to the stone, it goes directly through their garden. You need to wait until tonight, when they're all asleep. If you don't make any noise and you don't touch them, you can make it through to the other side." The daisy yawned widely. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm _completely_ bushed…" The orange petals started to curl inward.

"Why are you telling us this?" Hatter asked quickly, with a note of suspicion.

"There's something on the other side, I can feel it. The big Flowers want to keep it, but I just want it out of the Wood. The quickest way is through the garden." The daisy yawned again, and the last petal curled into place, forming a completely closed ball that offered no opportunity for argument.

Alice and Hatter looked at each other warily. Alice stood up with an exasperated sigh and turned back toward the clearing. "Well, I'll take first watch. I'll wake you both up when it's nightfall."

"Wait a minute, Alice," Hatter said, following her with a frown. "Something about this just doesn't tick right. Why would that Flower sell out its mates? Not even just regular mates, its _superiors_-those big guys could eat him _alive_, so why is it so willing to give us their secrets?"

"It just said," Alice defended. "It wants the Stone gone just as much as we do. Now that path through the Garden looked pretty wide, so it'll be no problem as long as we're _quiet_." This last bit was said with a pointed glare to both men, who glanced at each other worriedly. "Now get some rest while you can," Alice said. "I'll wake you two up in an hour or so."

She turned away, trying to shake off the feeling of unease. The phrase _never poke a sleeping dragon_ flitted through her mind… She pressed her lips together and picked out the smoothest-looking tree to lean against, settling in for her watch and noticing Hatter doing the same across the fire. He kept his hat clutched in his hand as he closed his eyes.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

..

Three little bundles illuminated by a dying fire; two of them sprawled across the rough ground, one of them leaning against a tree and nodding softly, lulled by the comforting warmth of the night.

So vulnerable.

But, Lory reminded himself with the smallest tinge of regret, that wasn't his style.

He flipped upside-down on the branch he was seated upon, the bark not even scratching under his knees as he held himself aloft. He stretched out a single finger to brush the tightly closed orange bud. He could feel the little Flower's panic itch the back of his mind as he forced it asleep.

Lory clucked his teeth sadly. He preferred to keep his subjects alive, he really did. But if he let this one wake up it would just wail and panic about intruders and betraying its superiors, and who knew what else. He really couldn't risk it.

Lory curled the outstretched finger into his tense fist. The curled orange bud wilted ever-so-slightly and the panic itching at the back of Lory's mind went suddenly quiet.

And before the bud had even bent low enough to brush the ground, he was gone.

* * *

..

Alice jolted herself awake, blinking blurry eyes at the fire. Somehow it had grown dark without her realizing it. Through the gaps in the treetops she could only just see the purple remnants of sunset. She rolled her eyes and rubbed at her face – she really was horrible at keeping watch.

"Rise and shine," she said, nudging the boys with her feet. She ignored their groans of protest, saddling Bill with her bag. As she tightened the straps, she looked across Bill's back to see the Flower bent over, closed bud nearly touching the ground. _I suppose there's no need to wake it up…_ she shrugged the thought away. Impatient, she turned around to give her two companions another dirty look.

"Don't be in such a rush," Hatter complained. "We're walking to our deaths, here."

She raised one dark eyebrow at him. "So melodramatic?"

"It's a special occasion."

Charlie frowned a bit in thought. "Really? It seems as though we do this sort of thing rather often."

Alice snickered behind her hand and Hatter rolled his eyes. "I stand corrected. Let's just get this over with, then."

Once they were saddled and seated, Alice leaned forward to rest her chin against Hatter's shoulder. "One of these days," she said mischievously, "you're going to tell me why these Flowers bother you so much. Did one of them bite you as a child?"

"Hey, I just…" He scowled. "They're just dangerous, okay!"

Alice nodded sympathetically and patted his shoulder. "It's okay baby, I'll protect you." He twisted in his seat to give her a withering look and she laughed.

Charlie looked back at them and sighed. "Be _quiet_, you two!" he whispered urgently. "We're almost there." Faces quickly schooled into identical expressions of innocence, they dutifully rode the rest of the trip in silence.

This time, they were in darkness so thick that Alice could barely see Charlie's armor glinting in front of them. The trunks around them were so densely packed that they almost completely obscured the sliver of moon occasionally peeking through, and for the first time Alice noticed that the animals in the trees were completely, utterly silent. Just as she realized this, a slight breeze rustled the hair at the nape of her neck. She shuddered, resisting the urge to rub away the goosepimples that had risen on the back of her neck.

The darkness only deepened as they rode further into the forest. Eventually she could only gauge Charlie's distance by the subtle clop-clopping of Guinevere's hooves on the ground, amplified by the silence and Alice's straining ears. Maybe, she thought later, that was why she didn't even see the Flower Garden until they were practically close enough to reach out and touch them. She bit back a gasp of surprise when she saw the first pale green stalk only a stone's throw to her left, her hackles rising and her battle instincts suddenly buzzing. Now that she was alert to it, she could see the pale outlines of stalks everywhere, surrounding them like a smooth, silent forest. The colored buds at the top were tightly closed in sleep, the leaves swaying slightly in the cool breeze.

The path was much wider now that the Flowers weren't stretching across it constantly to talk, but it was still probably only about five feet across. All it would take was one of their horses stumbling just a few steps in the wrong direction, or someone sneezing, or a twig breaking, or…. Alice just tried to take a deep breath as silently as possible. The only way to get through this, she commanded herself, was to _keep calm._ Nothing was going to happen if they _kept calm_.

* * *

..

Lory watched their slow progress through the trees, his bird-like eyesight grabbing onto the slivers of moonlight and highlighting them with perfect clarity. He was grudgingly impressed with the old man's skilled navigation through the forest – not many would have been able to keep such a true course in this kind of darkness.

It was too bad someone like that had to get mixed up in this. Really, it was. If Lory were sentimental, he would have even sighed.

Once they passed the entrance into the garden, Lory jumped a bit closer so his control wouldn't get muddled over distance. His plan was simple and efficient, but Lory didn't want to take any chances. He watched as his target plodded along, closer and closer to a drooping bluebell. He reached out his mind toward the sleeping Flower, keeping its struggles dormant once it realized briefly what he was doing, and waited. He waited until the hat bounced just so, until it reached right…

Lory narrowed his pupil-less eyes and _pushed_.

* * *

..

Alice was too busy counting her breaths to realize the subtle movement of the stalks around her, chalking it up to the slight breeze that had picked up since their arrival. She also ignored the fighting instincts that itched in her shoulders, all the way down to her fingertips.

When she looked up just in time to see a large bluebell droop down just six inches too low, she was so busy keeping herself frozen that she didn't even have time to cry out in warning before it brushed, ever so slightly, against the brim of Hatter's hat.

In less time than it took to blink in surprise, there was a cut-off yell from Hatter, a huge sucking sound, and his head was completely engulfed in the bluebell's mouth.

Hatter's arms flailed in surprise, incidentally saving Alice—who had been gripping him so closely— by knocking her off the horse. She tumbled off the saddle to land in a heap on the ground. Bill whinnied in fear, rearing onto his hind legs, eyes rolling in panic.

She got to her feet immediately, trying to dodge the flailing hooves and breathing heavily. "Hatter!" she yelled. She could hear his muffled screams from inside the Flower's mouth, his hands beating everywhere he could reach with no result. Her blood felt _hot_ in her veins, she was so scared – and, she suddenly realized, so _angry_.

Without stopping to think, because there was _no time for thinking right now_, she sprinted ahead to where Charlie was only just turning around with Guinevere and yanked his sword from his scabbard. The metal felt cold and heavy in her hands, the sword feeling somewhat inelegant compared to the smooth grace of hand-to-hand combat, but Alice was too far beyond to care. Tightening her two-handed grip on the hilt, she ran toward the bluebell with a horrible yell and sliced off its head.

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	17. Chapter 17

_**Warning:** This chapter contains sexually explicit content not necessarily reflected in the "Teen" rating._

**A/N:** Besides the warning above, this is also my longest chapter to date. I tried to find a place to cut it, but it just wasn't working. So, here y'all go! ^_^ My chapters seem to be getting longer and longer without my permission… lol This story is outta control!

* * *

..

The whole ordeal had only lasted about ten seconds, and she certainly had been through other situations where she had been more afraid, but Alice couldn't ever remember feeling quite so _panicked_ in her life as she did when she saw Hatter's head swallowed by a man-eating Flower. As she felt the sword's impact on the bluebell's stalk tremble up her arm, she fervently hoped she never would again.

The satisfying _thwack_ resonated in her ears. Shiny, greenish-white water—the plant's blood, Alice assumed— was dripping down the blade of the sword and pooling on the hilt, cold and slippery in the crevices between her tightly clenched fingers. Out of the corners of her vision, she saw Hatter yank the now-decapitated bluebell off his head and breathe in a deep gulp of fresh air with a rasping noise. His head was drenched with the same stuff that was on Alice's fingers and smelled strongly of freshly cut grass. He collapsed onto the ground, eyes wide and whole body trembling, chest heaving as he coughed and spluttered and took in lungfuls of air.

Alice threw Charlie's sword on the ground, knowing by his footsteps that he was right behind her to pick it up, and she fell to her knees next to Hatter. Her fingers fluttered over his face and neck, partly checking for wounds and partly just making sure that he was really _there_ and _alive_ and _there_. "Hatter?" she nearly whimpered. "Hatter—"

"Lady Alice!" Charlie yelled from behind her, his voice huffing with exertion, and what was that horrible _screeching_ sound in the background? "I'm afraid our rescue has been rather _loud!_"

Alice could almost _hear_ the sound of the bottom dropping out of her stomach, the sudden weight of realization. She swiveled around to find every single Flower in the garden awake, ducking and writhing around each other like a humongous den of snakes rearing up to strike, hissing and spitting in outrage over the intrusion on their territory and the murder of their fallen comrade, teeth glistening on every side, absolutely overlapping each other in their eagerness to eat the three of them whole. Charlie had his sword brandished bravely defending himself, as well as Alice and Hatter as they lay prone on the ground, but he had only managed to harm a few and they were gathering courage as more of them kept waking up.

And, Alice couldn't help but notice, they were _completely surrounded_. Walking this deep into the Garden, she couldn't even see where their exit had been. They were completely surrounded and Hatter had almost _died_ and _she had no weapon._

She lifted Hatter to his feet, glad to see him holding his own weight, even if his balance was a little punch-drunk. A sudden movement out of the corner of her eye made her grab his elbow and pull them both backwards, just barely dodging the sucking jaws of a killer azalea. "Charlie!" she shrieked. "Throw me a weapon!"

"I don't have another sword!" he yelled in return as he successfully beheaded an entire cluster of daisies blocking the path.

"_Throw me ANYTHING!_"

Charlie lunged for Guinevere, wrenched off the first thing that his hand landed upon, and slid it across the ground to Alice's feet. He turned around just in time to catch the teeth of a rose with the flat of his blade, filling the air with the horrible screeching sound of metal on metal. Alice leaned down and picked up something black, metal, and _heavy_.

Charlie had tossed her a _frying pan_.

Oh, they would have _words_ about this. But for now all Alice could do was throw herself up off the ground and backhand wildly the first blurred blue thing that came her way – she didn't even have time to see what it was.

_THWACK._ There was Hatter, using that sledgehammer of his against a sunflower. _THWACK._ Alice stepped over the head of a neon pink pansy that looked like it had blue strings coming out of its mouth, but she didn't have time to examine it closer. _THWACK._ Even Pat, Bill, and Guinevere were kicking as many Flowers in the face as they could. Good horses. _THWACK, THWACK._ At her feet, Alice spotted Hatter's hat on the ground. She picked it up without even thinking about it. _THWACK._

It was absolute, senses-jumbling chaos. Alice was barely aware that they were moving as a group, trying to push forward, but all she could see were bright blurs of color endlessly moving and shifting in the darkness, broken up by the black smudge of her wild frying pan, and everything, _everything_ was coated in slippery, iridescently shiny blood. It was in her hair, under her fingernails, she could feel it soaking through the fabric of her shirtsleeves. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Hatter covering her back, punching as hard and fast as he could, never leaving her side.

They kept pushing forward.

_THWACK. THWACK. THWACK._

And then, abruptly, the colors vanished. Alice circled around, frying pan held outward and at the ready, eyes darting wildly trying to find her next target, but all she could see was blackness. It took her a minute to realize that all the flowers were hissing and snapping their jaws five feet away, straining at their roots but not able to stretch far enough to reach them.

"Oh thank the Maker," Charlie moaned behind them, voicing what they were all thinking and sinking bonelessly to his knees.

But Alice wasn't done. Anger and adrenaline still rushed through her veins in a way she hadn't felt since… well, since she'd seen those two little girls get pulled from their homes through the Mirror. Her grip only tightened on the pan handle and she strode ahead, just far enough to be out of reach from the viciously snapping jaws. She stood there, strands of sopping wet hair plastered to her face, and she _screamed_.

Alice wasn't really sure what she was saying – she couldn't even be sure she was screaming actual _words_. It wasn't a yell of victory or fear, it was just pure _rage._ Her senses were overloaded and she was tired and frightened and _done_, and she just screamed and cried directly into the Flower's hissing faces, the terrible sounds ripping through her throat and one fist clenched to her belly and hot tears ran down her red, blotchy face as she yelled and roared and when she couldn't stand any more she fell to her knees.

And Hatter was right there to catch her when she did.

She clung to him fiercely there in the dark, her face buried into the crook of his shoulder as she whimpered through her broken throat and ran her hands all over his arms and shoulders and neck without seeing, just to make sure he was still there and was still solid. He made soothing sounds into her temple and rocked her back and forth and just _held_ her, tight enough to hurt but she didn't mind in the slightest, the two of them clinging and exhausted and overcome with relief.

Charlie walked up to them after what seemed like an age, Hatter's hat clenched in his hands from where Alice had dropped it while screaming. "Let's go get cleaned up," he said quietly.

Alice nodded, and upon standing up reached for Charlie and hugged him tightly as well. He was obviously surprised, but managed a smile and patted her shoulder a bit, leading her slowly away with Hatter and the three horses close behind.

* * *

..

Lory did not get mad. He got even.

He set the Flower Garden ablaze within minutes of the group's departure, silencing their screams in his mind. He could always enchant some more flowers into Flowers later if he needed them. This batch was obviously not up to standard.

He didn't even stay to watch them burn.

* * *

..

Charlie led them to a rushing, gurgling spring that would be just deep enough to wash themselves off in. He waded in, armor and all, but Alice just knelt numbly at the water's edge and ran handfuls of water through her hair. Hatter took the more direct approach of just dunking his head in and shaking it off like a dog, sending water droplets spraying everywhere. Alice watched as he gripped his hat carefully in both hands, held it under the water for a moment, and gave it a firm shake. Then he just flipped it back onto his head, good as new.

"It's clean," she said with a note of surprise.

"Yeah."

"I thought it'd be ruined."

Hatter's smile peeked back at her, a bit of that self-satisfied air coming back to him. "I told you this hat was built for action."

"I spotted a clearing nearby," Charlie said, interrupting whatever Alice had been about to say. "You two can wash your clothes while I go start a fire and get the horses settled for the night."

"Can you leave our bags, Charlie?" Alice asked. He nodded. Alice knew he was really just giving the two of them some privacy, but she appreciated it nevertheless. She bent back down to the stream and ran a few more handfuls of water over her hair, running her fingers through the strands until the sounds of Charlie's armor and the horses had disappeared.

She could feel Hatter's eyes on her, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes just yet. She was still so embarrassed over her freakout at the Garden – after everything _he_ had just fought through, and _Charlie_ too… what had given _her_ the right… _so DUMB,_ she mentally berated herself.

"Alice," he said, and laid a hand over the back of her neck. "I'm okay."

She leaned into the warm pressure of his hand and allowed herself a shaky breath.

"There was a moment when I thought you weren't going to be, though." Her voice was steadier than she had anticipated. Maybe that was how she finally made herself look up at him. She looked sadly at the bright red hickey, about an inch in diameter, completely circling his neck. It looked morbidly like a burn from a hangman's noose. She reached out to touch it with tentative fingers. "There was a whole minute where I thought _none_ of us would be," she admitted.

He looked at her seriously for a beat before pulling her in for a kiss. Alice could feel his fingers on the back of her neck tighten the tiniest bit, and that more than anything told her that he had been scared, too.

When they parted, he wrinkled his nose comically. "You smell like grass," he said. She laughed – it felt good to laugh.

"And to think I used to love that smell," she said, reaching down to peel off the wet fabric of her shirt. She sighed in relief when the garment came off over her head, letting her skin breathe in the cool night air. "Now I think I never will again."

Hatter snorted and followed suit, slipping off his jacket and letting it sit next to Alice's shirt in the water. They peeled off the rest of their clothes until they were kneeling there, at the water's edge, washing their clothes in only their underwear. Alice rinsed and wrung, rinsed and wrung, enjoying the simple, domestic motion. Her heart hummed with a quiet feeling of satisfaction, holding up a clean shirt at the end and laying it across a branch to dry. She started working on her jeans, which took longer given the dense material but also because she kept sneaking glances at Hatter out of the corner of her eye.

He was slower than Alice, partly because he wore so many layers and partly because he took more pride in the appearance and well-being of his clothes than any other man Alice had ever met. It afforded her plenty of time to watch his shoulder and back muscles bunch and ripple as he rubbed water into his shirt fabric and wrung out the extra droplets. He'd bend over to submerge his hands in water again and Alice would watch his arm muscles stretch, and he'd straighten up to wring it out and the muscles would tighten under his golden skin, drawing contoured lines down his whole torso. When he reached between them to grab another garment, Alice could feel the heat emanating from him, and when his eyes flickered to her face she didn't miss the way that they darkened, catching her in the middle of her blatant ogling.

Alice flushed, but didn't look away. After all, she wasn't a teenager any more, and Hatter wasn't Sam Jules in 8th grade Geometry class – he was _Hatter_, and he was _hers_.

_And currently,_ she reminded herself, _half-naked_.

He didn't protest when she took the wet, newly-cleaned shirt out of his hands and walked away with it, draping it over the tree branch with the rest of their clothes to dry. In the distance she could see the small pinprick of Charlie's campfire – close enough to hear him if he called for help in the night. Good.

She turned around slowly and looked down at Hatter, still kneeling by the stream with the darkest pair of bedroom eyes she'd ever seen. She felt oddly on display like this – standing in front of him nearly naked, with him watching her so intently – but not uncomfortable. Never. Step by step, she walked toward him until she was close enough that he reached out and took her hands, pulling her down to his lap in a clinging embrace so quickly that she gasped into his shoulder. Her arms tightened around him like an anchor, breathing a sigh as he dotted warm kisses all over her shoulder and neck.

"Is this the part where we have thank-god-you're-not-dead-and-we-got-away sex?" she asked good-naturedly as he sucked on her collarbone. He huffed a breathy laugh against her skin and kissed her ear.

"Your sleeping bag or mine?" he asked, and Alice could _feel_ his smile, and she grinned in response and hugged him all the harder for loving him like her heart would burst.

"Yours," she retorted. "I think mine has a hole in it, it's kinda drafty in there."

Hatter chuckled and reached for his sleeping bag, where Charlie had left it leaning against a nearby rock. Alice helped him roll it out and they crawled inside. It was a tight fit, two grown adults, but that was fine by her – she didn't want to be apart from him tonight. Especially not the way he was kissing her like _that_, and the way his skin felt so _smooth_ under her fingertips, and the way their legs tangled around each other so that she couldn't tell where hers ended and his began.

Hatter's hand was fisted in her hair, kissing her with such fevered intensity that it was almost overwhelming. Tendrils of hot desire twisted and exploded in Alice's stomach as his slick tongue curled against hers, sucking on her upper lip even as she sucked on his lower one, both of them nipping and gasping for air and emitting small, greedy moans and whimpers of raw _need_.

Alice reached back and unhooked her bra, shoving it to the bottom of the sleeping bag to join both of their underpants that had come off some point earlier that she couldn't remember. All she knew was that she needed him _closer_, and this wasn't _enough_, he needed to be in every _cell_ of her. She ground her hips against his, eliciting a loud groan from him that made her shudder. Emboldened by the reaction, she burrowed herself into the dark sleeping bag and reached around to find his cock and stroke it firmly, her toes curling in satisfaction at the sound of his strangled moan.

It was pitch black inside the sleeping bag, which heightened the experience in a way that Alice hadn't anticipated – her senses to _taste_ and _feel_ were on overload as she licked up the side of Hatter's shaft before plunging it into her mouth as deep as it would go. She held his hips down on either side to keep him from bucking as she slid up and down, swirling her tongue around the tip and sucking _hard_ before each downward push.

When she wasn't sure he could take any more, she crawled back up so her head poked out of the sleeping bag. She met his dark, predatory gaze with one of her own and slowly, purposefully licked her lips.

Hatter growled loudly and flipped her over so that he was on top. His heated chest slid over her exposed, sensitive nipples as he aligned himself with her opening. Alice arched her back with a whimper, feeling the slickness of her thighs as she tightened them on either side of Hatter's waist. His thrusts were hard and fast, all tenderness gone with only the raw need to _feel_ her remaining, to take her fully and cement what they both already knew. Alice laced her fingers behind his neck as he moved over her, moaned his name when they both shuddered in completion, whispered kisses into his temple as they lay tangled together for sleep. Their every effort was a promise to each other, a declaration to ienforce/i their unspoken will upon the world around them.

They weren't _ever_ going to part. Not _ever_.

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	18. Chapter 18

_**Warning:** This chapter is a very dark, very emotional depiction of grief, containing some graphic imagery._

**A/N:** This chapter took me a very, very long time to write, because it was so important to me that I get it _right_. My writing style is heavily influenced by my acting background, getting into the minds of my characters, so writing this chapter was immensely difficult for me. There were several points when I had to _stop_, because I was so into the minds of my characters that I couldn't _write_ anymore or _think_ clearly. I really hope that you all find the end result as beautiful as I do.

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As Alice and Hatter spent the night on their own, Charlie slept. And as Charlie slept, he dreamed.

Or rather, remembered.

* * *

..

His job was to carry the Great Lance.

It was a simple job, given to only the youngest of squires, but it was by no means inconsequential. It was significant, he was told hurriedly by his mother while she helped him buckle on his armor, for him to be allowed on the battlefield at all. So he gulped down the butterflies in his stomach, tightened his numb fingers around the heftiest part of the Great Lance, and stomped onto the battlefield. His father had told him that the rest of his life would be determined on how he conducted himself in his first battle. Charles tried not to think about it much.

He couldn't remember much after that, of the battle itself – there was smoke everywhere, great, billowing, black clouds that covered everything in a gritty blanket that choked from the inside-out. The bits of skin exposed through his armor felt like they sizzled, so close to the heat of burning buildings and scorched stone. His nose itched with the smell of seared flesh, and he felt like he would vomit given two seconds to himself. Instead, he forced himself to point the Great Lance in his arms towards the sounds of swords clashing in battle, and willed his feet to carry him forward. He'd been instructed to bring it to the Third Regiment, and was determined to do so.

The Third Regiment was within sight – he could see the Red Knight beckoning him urgently, yelling something he couldn't hear. But before Charles could take another step—

There was a humongous explosion somewhere off to his right, the sound rocketing around Charles' tiny body and physically shaking it to the bone. Dust and grime filled the limited vision through his visor, and he frantically tried to find his bearings so he could stand, where was the Great Lance, where had it gone to, it was just in his hand— he saw it on the ground, smooth and white and regal, about the width of a loaf of bread. He reached for it, but instead of the cold, comforting weight he was expecting, it was warm, soft, and sticky in his hand.

It wasn't the Great Lance at all.

It was a severed arm.

His whole body went numb. He couldn't _see_ anymore… there was a sense of movement, but he had no idea what was moving or how fast or where it was going. The whole world was blurry behind a film of tears and smoke and the blood. There was just run, run, run, run, run, run, and then he fell and everything was dark and he stayed there, in that dark place.

* * *

..

That was how the little girl found him, three days later - a dirty ten-year-old boy, literally out of his mind with fear, ashamed and crying, hiding under the roots of a tree. His armor was streaked with blood and soot. She looked down at Beaver, who was already looking up at her expectantly.

"You'd better go bring some water," she said. He clicked his teeth in agreement and scampered off. The girl didn't bother worrying about Beaver getting lost in the Wood, nor how he would manage bringing water back to them here – she never worried about him. He was Beaver, after all.

And she could tell, the little sad part of her that had seen battles come and go before, knew what winning and losing looked like… that part of her could tell that this little boy would much prefer to remain asleep, if he had the choice.

Which was why she had to wake him up.

She looked back at the little boy, who looked to be around her age… relatively speaking. He didn't seem to realize she was here. The little girl stretched a hand to the nearest part of him she could reach – his foot – and shook it slightly. "Hello?" she asked quietly. "Little boy? Hello?" No response. The girl frowned. Maybe he was having trouble hearing her. She shook his foot a little harder and spoke a little louder. _"Can you hear me?"

* * *

._.

_"Can you hear me?"_

The rest of the world came back to Charles with an almost physical snapping sound, like someone had turned the switch on. He jumped in surprise, his eyes darting all over his surroundings only to find dirt and roots, until finally landing on a little girl that seemed to be bathed in light. It streamed through her scraggly blonde hair so brightly that he couldn't focus on her face – and then it _hit_ him, like a slap to the face, that the world seemed… quiet. So quiet, so much more quiet than he had ever remembered the world being before. It pressed down on his ears like a pillow, suffocating him.

For a moment, he was afraid. What if she was an angel? What if he… he had _died_? He had to ask. "Am—am I—?" he stuttered.

The girl smiled and crawled in to join him under the tree roots. "Well, that's more like it," she said. "It's much nicer in here than it is out there, you know, but I didn't want to intrude on an unconscious person. Quite rude, that."

Now that he could see her clearly he was surprised to find that she looked about his age, ten, maybe eleven years old and wearing the dirtiest, most threadbare clothes he had ever seen. Then a very large beaver scurried into their hiding place on its hind legs, carefully holding a bowl of stitched-together leaves. "Oh, _there_ you are," the girl cried. "So you stitched a bowl! Very clever, and excellent craftsmanship as always," she said admiringly. The beaver chattered happily and gave her the bowl, settling back on its four feet. She held out the bowl to Charles. "I told him to go get you some water," she said. "You look like you need it, you might have been in here for days."

Charles looked from the bowl, to the girls' face, to the strange beaver that behaved like a human sitting at her feet, both of them staring at him impatiently. "I'm dead," he said finally.

"No, you're not," she replied.

"I must be. I've died in battle. Tell me I've died in battle."

"_No,_" she insisted. "You _didn't_. Even if in a few seconds," she said, her voice trembling slightly, "you might wish you _had_, you are _not_ dead! Now drink your water!"

"_No!_" he cried, his eyes boring into hers with a wild look. "_I MUST be dead because it's so QUIET!_" he gulped, his throat feeling raw. He took a shuddering breath. "It shouldn't…it _can't_ be this quiet…"

For a second, she didn't say anything, just looked at the bowl of water between them.

"So… you noticed," she said.

He took the bowl from her hands and sipped it carefully so he wouldn't have to talk, letting the cool feeling spread through his parched throat. It felt as though every inch of his body was caked in dirt and tears, sweat and soot.

"You should come out, into the open," she said quietly. "You should see it for yourself."

"No," he said, shaking his head desperately, maniacally. "No, please don't. I know, I know, it's so quiet, I _know_," tears were rolling down his face, drawing streaks through the dirt. His chest was heaving as he struggled to breathe, each sob and gasp for air seeming like a fight. "Don't, don't, please don't, I can't, I _can't_-"

She looked at him with such _pity_ in her eyes that he wanted to _hit_ her. _Why_ should she be pitying him, none of this was _real_, it hadn't _happened_-

She took his hand. "I'm sorry," she said. "I am, I really am. But you can't hide in here forever. You've got a _life_-"

"No!" he cried, and he felt like it was the only word he knew right now. "No! I have _nothing!_ I'm a _mistake_, I'm an _accident_, I shouldn't _be_ here—"

_"That's not true!"_ the little girl interrupted. "You _can't_ think that!" She grabbed him by the shoulders and looked straight into his big brown eyes with her big blue ones. A piece of her dirty blonde hair was stuck to the smudge of dirt on her cheek. "There's a _reason_ you didn't die, _there's a reason you're here_. You've got to understand, you're the last of your kind now, you've got a _responsibility_ that you can't escape—"

_"I DON'T WANT IT!" _Charlie yelled, trying to throw his arms over his face despite the girl's firm grip on his shoulders. He was nearly in the fetal position, all curled up in front of her. "I can't do it, I can't, I don't want it, I never asked for—"

"Tough."

He looked up at her with wild fight in his eyes, but was tempered by her haunted look. Her eyes had turned inward, her expression… old. "We can't choose the burdens we bear," she said, and the ancient words sounded strange from the voice of a ten-year-old girl. "We can only trust that they were given to us for a reason, that it's only because the Universe knows we can handle it. That's our only solace, and you _need_ to take solace from that, or you'll go mad."

He didn't say anything. The girl looked at him and smiled sadly.

"It's going to be rough, yeah. But you're going to be okay."

Her hands slid down from their iron grip on his shoulders to take his hands. He held on to her like she was a lifeline.

"You're going to be okay," she repeated.

Then she brought him out into the light. And even though he could feel her hands in his, and feel the comforting warmth of the beaver against his calf, the little boy looked at the remains of his kingdom and thought…

_I am never going to be okay.

* * *

._.

When he had exhausted himself, when he had run from burned remains to burned remains, sobbed himself physically sick to the point of vomiting at the sight of the Red King, a skeleton of freshly charred bone, still sitting on his throne… he circled around the twisted bodies like a lost leaf, floating dead and hollow in the wind… after all this, he collapsed into a little ball where the Red King's court used to be. And the little girl walked to where he lay, and held him as best she could, and she sang.

"Hey, nonny nonny," she breathed, as the little hollow boy lay between her arms, listening to a song he'd never heard in the middle of a kingdom he didn't recognize. "Hey, nonny nonny… the wind and the rain… the wind and the rain…"

And the world wasn't silent any more.

* * *

..

"I've got to leave today," she said one morning. He didn't know how he knew that she was going to say this – today seemed to him just like every other day since she had found him underneath that tree and forced him out into the open. But she sounded so certain and matter-of-fact about it, just like she sounded certain and matter-of-fact about everything _else_, that it seemed _right_ somehow. So he nodded and said the only thing that he could think of to say:

"I'm Charlie."

She smiled and extended a hand for Charlie to shake. "I'm Hope," she said.

Charlie smiled a little bit, too. "That's a peculiar name."

"Ironic, I think is more the word."

"I'll miss you," he said honestly.

"You'll do okay," she told him, and Beaver chattered in agreement. Charlie reached forward and gave him a pat on the head, so he wouldn't feel left out. "Besides," Hope continued. "We'll meet again in the woods someday."

And with nothing else to say, they smiled at each other and Hope turned away. In the time it took for Charlie to blink, she had vanished.

His head swiveled around for a bit, searching for where she had gone to… but then he thought better of it. He smiled to himself again, just the littlest bit, before continuing to re-build what would become again his home.

"Hey, nonny nonny," he sang under his breath. "Hey, nonny nonny… the wind and the rain… the wind and the rain…"

* * *

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	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** I don't really have anything clever to say about this chapter, so I want to take the opportunity to thank all of you who have stuck with me through this fic for so long! ^_^ You guys are the reason the Alice fandom exists, as small and loyal as we are, and I really can't thank you enough! You're kind and inspiring and ask all the right questions, and I'm so greatful for your support. (hearts) We're only halfway through my outline and really starting to cook on this plot, and _everything_ is about to get all shook up... Mwuah ha ha...

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..

When Hatter and Alice rejoined Charlie at his camp the next morning, it was only to find him hunched over in a ball next to the remains of that night's fire, muttering to himself. The pair looked at each other with a frown, Alice's brow furrowing in concern. "Charlie?" she asked softly, making tentative steps across the camp to where he sat. Hatter followed close behind. "Charlie," she repeated, "is everything okay?"

"Galadoon…" he muttered, eyes squeezed tight and fingers perched on his temples. "_T'poosh!_"

Alice sighed. Behind her, she heard Hatter's exasperated snort. "Charlie, _what_ are you doing?" he asked.

Charlie looked up at him impatiently, obviously miffed at being interrupted in his work.

"I'm trying to determine where we should go _next_," he said matter-of-factly. "Naturally, my considerable aptitude in the black arts could only _help_ us in this endeavor!"

"Naturally," Hatter muttered under his breath, but left Charlie to carry on. Alice patted her long-suffering boyfriend on the shoulder and started the process of packing up the horses.

They were rewarded a few minutes later with a triumphant "Aha!" from Charlie, complete with a surprisingly nimble and armor-clanking leap to his feet. "Straight in that direction!" he announced grandly, pointing off to a random clump of trees with, Alice noted, a considerable _lack of path_. "We're quite far, though," he admitted. "I don't think we'll reach it _today_, but with a full day's ride we'll definitely be there _tomorrow!_"

"Wonderful," Alice said, trying to sound cheerful and climbing up on Bill for another long day's ride. "Nice to know we're on the right track, at any rate." She watched as Charlie's foot missed his stirrup on the first try mounting Guinevere—she frowned. That wasn't like him at _all_. Usually he jumped on Guinevere as easily as she would jump over a log. "Did you sleep okay last night, Charlie?" she asked, concerned.

He nodded and turned back a smile at her, although it looked a bit strained to her eyes. "I had a… _bothersome_ dream last night, my lady, but not to worry!" He pounded a fist proudly against his escutcheon, letting the sound reverberate though the tinny chest. "Rest assured that my physical and mental abilities are as swift today as they have ever been!"

Hatter snorted in front of her, and she reached up to smack him on the head. "Sounds great, Charlie," she said. She tightened her arms around Hatter's waist and kissed the back of his neck, right at the nape. He craned his head around to flash that dimple at her, wiggling his eyebrows comically. Alice, in turn, tightened her lips together in a smirk to keep from laughing… _that_ would only encourage him.

* * *

..

Lory wouldn't admit it to _anyone_, and would in fact _kill_ anyone who would dare to even _ask_… but he was becoming, shall we say…

Desperate.

It wasn't even Jack's reaction that he was worried about, not at all – it was Lory's _reputation _that was really at stake, here. Lory prided himself at being good at _killing_ people. Discreetly and efficiently, that was his way. If he couldn't knock off one man riding blind around his _own forest_, well… Lory clenched his fist, causing the feathers across the back of his hand to tremble sharply in the air.

That would just be pathetic.

Unfortunately, Lory was running out of options. The Flowers had taken some planning, and Jack would be expecting an update by the end of the day. He had to bring him some good news, NOW.

Besides which, how had that old man been able to pick out the _one clear direction,_ anyway? Out of all the paths in the forest, somehow he'd managed to pick the one crossing through the fewest habitats of Lory's favorite beasts. He shook his head – at this point of the game, in this part of the forest, he only had one option. The feathers on the back of his head stood on end dangerously.

_It had better work.

* * *

._.

As dusk rolled around, Hatter was riding along in silence, Bill's reins held loosely in his hands and enjoying the occasional puff of Alice's breath on the back of his neck. For some reason, he couldn't stop thinking about riding his little flamingo scooter around the City as a kid, this nice little black and silver job he'd painted himself… which then reminded him of the afternoons during seventh year playing endless (and also slightly illegal) games of pidgelball. Which then reminded him of…

He shook his head. What was with the sudden wave of _nostalgia_? Hatter hadn't had a horrible childhood, he'd admit, but it hadn't exactly been rose-colored, either, and reminiscing on the past had never been his cuppa. He shook his head again and tried to think about something else. "Alice, have you got—" but then something moved in the corner of his vision, and he stopped abruptly.

"What?" Alice asked, surprised by Hatter's sudden change of mood. Automatically, she started scanning the trees. "What did you see?"

But Hatter wasn't scanning the treetops. He had a razor-sharp gaze fixed on a densely packed clump of bushes and trees about forty feet ahead. "Charlie," he called, and dismounted Bill so he could run up alongside him. He was pleased to see that Charlie was looking at the same spot. "Didja' see that?"

"I did indeed," Charlie muttered, reaching for his sword. "Keep very still."

"What did you see?" Alice asked suddenly from behind Hatter. Only his supreme self-control kept him from literally jumping out of his skin at the surprise – he hadn't even heard her dismount.

Charlie didn't answer, just pointed to a large branch on the ground and looked significantly at Hatter, who picked it up and handed it to him with a bewildered look on his face. "It's a _borogrove,_ I believe," Charlie said, and was that a hint of excitement Hatter heard in his voice? "In other words," he giggled, "perhaps our dinner for tonight. Now—"

But his instructions were lost in the sudden explosion of movement in the bushes, and Hatter only had barely enough time to push Alice behind him before the borogrove came tearing out of the brush and _looked_ straight at them, with _murder_ in its wild, crazed eyes. It closely resembled a giant warthog, just over ten feet tall, with tusks longer and thicker than Hatter's arm. This one was snarling, growling at them, pawing at the ground impatiently and locking its red eyes firmly on where Hatter and Alice stood, completely defenseless.

"Alice," Hatter barked, giving her a rather forceful push in the opposite direction. _"RUN!"_

The two of them started to sprint in the opposite direction just in time—no sooner had he turned away than Hatter felt the ground trembling beneath him as the borogrove started its charge. The two of them ran at top speed, Alice's hair flying behind in a wave, almost obscuring his vision as he ran close behind her, the better to defend. Hatter's blood pounded in his ears, his breath coming in fast, furious lungfuls, his legs not even feeling the shock of the forest floor as they pounded against it in their haste. His every instinct was telling him to crane his neck back and see how far ahead they were, but he resisted – years of experience running from authorities told him that was the kind of thing better _not_ to know.

Nevertheless, he could hear the loud, greedy snorts of the borogrove close behind him, and there was only so far they could _run_. "Alice!" he yelled ahead, struggling to be heard over the stampeding of the borogrove's hooves and the sound of air rushing past them as they ran. "We've got to split up… try to confuse it!"

She spared an exasperated glance over her shoulder, but Hatter saw the millisecond her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and she wrenched her head forward again. _DON'T LOOK,_ he commanded himself, fighting the now-overwhelming temptation to do so. _For the love of God, do NOT look!_

"Left or right?" Alice yelled, successfully distracting him.

"I'll go left!" He gritted his teeth, steeling himself for the result. "Three— Two—_now_!"

He waited until Alice started a giant curve to the right, and immediately after ran his own giant curve to the left. The sound of pounding hooves didn't stop – in fact, it got _louder_. Hatter's heart sunk. He gritted his teeth against the stitch in his side and dug his feet even deeper into the ground as he ran back the way he'd come.

_"Hatter!"_ He could hear Alice yell in the distance, just as he felt one of the borogrove's tusks scrape up his back, its hot breath panting on his neck and filling Hatter's nose with its stench.

"Charlie!" he yelled as the white knight came into view, charging towards him on Guinevere. "You've better have a _PLAN!_"

"Clear the path, harbinger!" Charlie bellowed, before throwing what looked like—

Hatter did a double-take… was that a _spear?_ Where had Charlie gotten a _spear_ from?

He recovered from his surprise just in time to fall to the ground in a duck, and heard the _thwock_ of the spear hitting its target: directly into the borogrove's mouth, which had been open and ready to swallow Hatter whole. The thing gave a horrifically loud, shrill squeal of a thousand pigs being slaughtered at once, and then collapsed only bare inches short of crushing Hatter's legs underneath its bulk.

Hatter lay there, looking at the beast's gaping, bloodied mouth, his heart slamming a painful tempo against his ribs. With a last effort, he rolled over to flop spread-eagle on the ground, gasping frantically and trying to force the world to stop spinning. He heard Alice drop to her knees next to him with a _flump_ of disturbed leaves. He opened his eyes to catch a glimpse of her windswept face and couldn't help but laugh a little in relief.

On his other side, he heard the clanking of Charlie's boots as he surveyed the fallen predator. "By the golden scepter of Periocles!" he exclaimed, whistling in admiration as he ran a hand along the same tusk that had threatened Hatter only moments before. "I've never seen a borogrove this size in all my years!" He chortled. "Good thing it had its mouth so wide open to eat you, harbinger, or I never would have managed it!"

"Yeah," Hatter moaned, trying briefly to rise into a sitting position before thinking that maybe he'd just stay where he was for a bit longer. "Lucky." He craned his neck up just in time to see Charlie pull his spear out of the borogrove's mouth – but Hatter had been right, it _wasn't_ a spear. It was Charlie's _sword_, lashed with twine to the branch that Hatter had given him earlier. _Resourceful,_ Hatter thought in grudging admiration as he finally pulled himself to a sitting position. Every muscle in his body felt hot and stretched from being overworked, and he knew that he'd be sore as hell in the morning. He glanced over at Alice, whose breathing was starting to level out. "You okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah," she said, brushing hair out of her face. "Sorry it took after you instead of me." She chuckled under her breath and kissed his cheek, hoisting him up to stand with her. "Bad luck, huh?"

That's when it clicked in Hatter's mind, the pieces sliding into place so forcefully he felt like he'd been slapped in the face with it. The JubJub bird appearing out of nowhere in the Great Library, somewhere that should have been _inhospitable_ for such a carnivorous bird of prey. The bluebell, just _happening_ to brush up next to him when it should have been asleep. The biggest borogrove he'd ever seen bursting out of the brushes on what should have been only the very outskirts of borogrove territory. _And all of them had been aiming for him._

"Alice," he said darkly, his eyes hard as stone._ "I don't think it was an accident."

* * *

._.

Lory's rage was past the point of seething and smoldering. It was a burning rage in his belly, setting his feathered skin on edge and turning his ice blue irises nearly white with anger. His hands were balled into fists so tight that his short, clawed fingernails were drawing his superheated blood, dripping down the crevices between his fingers and splattering on the forest floor to smoke softly on the carpet of dead leaves.

Suddenly, he felt the shift that told him Jack was sending a summons bird his way, and for the first time since he was an angry, petulant, and impatient hatchling, Lory _screeched_. He pursed his lips in displeasure, forcing himself into a calmer state of mind. It had been a long time since he had been goaded into letting his self-control slip.

He straightened the lines of his suit and readied his most severe, stony expression. He was heading into a fight, and he _would _come out on top. It was the only way to retain his professional reputation with the man, and Jack was already so irritable these days.

With a deep breath and a flick of his hands, sending the blood flying to the ground and leaving his hands completely clean, he evaporated. Only his signature red feather floated down to the ground, resting in a pool of his still-steaming blood.

* * *

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	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** I've noticed that Alice and Hatter are yellers. When they fight, my italics-coding fingers go crazygonuts, whether I'd planned on it or not. LOL. Also, I impulsively added a Charlie & Hatter (awkward) Bro Moment scene in this chapter, and I'm glad I did because it makes me ludicrously happy. XD Hope y'all enjoy it!

* * *

..

That night at dinner, as Charlie expertly roasted a meal out of their catch and began to serve it up, Hatter and Alice got to talking.

"Hatter, what do you mean you 'don't think it was an accident'?" Alice asked with a note of suspicion. Hatter twirled his hat nervously in his hands.

"I think someone's got it out for me. They're trying to kill me and make it look like an accident."

"What makes you think that?" Alice asked. "We're in the Tulgey Wood, it's _dangerous_ here. That's no reason to think someone's taken a _hit_ out on you."

"Think about it," Hatter insisted, leaning forward and speaking low, as though the culprit could be listening in on their every word. "First the JubJub bird appears out of nowhere, an animal that's supposed to be _extinct_, in the middle of the Great Library!"

"Meaning?"

"JubJub birds are carnivorous birds of prey, right Charlie?" he pointedly asked the knight, who looked rather surprised at the sudden query.

"Erm… yes," he mumbled. Hatter turned back to Alice eagerly.

"It never would have been able to survive in the Great Library for that long on its own. And _you_ saw it, it barely had room to spread its wings and fly!"

"So you think someone planted it there?"

"Exactly, and the Flower Garden was a set-up, too. Those flowers should have been asleep, there was no reason for that bluebell to suddenly drop half a foot and brush against my hat—"

"A stray breeze could have done that just as easily—"

"And Charlie," Hatter continued, refusing to be interrupted, "How likely is it to find a borogrove _that_ big, on the _outskirts_ of borogrove territory, without the rest of the pack right behind him?"

"Look," Charlie said pleadingly, holding his hands out, "I _really_ don't want to get in the middle of all this…"

"Charlie!"

His hands fluttered, looking anxious. "Very unlikely, it's true. But it was a very _violent_ borogrove, so perhaps it was a runaway…"

His voice trailed off at Hatter's stony glare.

"It _wasn't_ just a runaway _fluke_!" Hatter insisted, turning his attention back to Alice. "All the evidence points to _someone_ trying to kill me."

Instead of being impressed by this evidence, Alice looked at him with a face of flat _you must be kidding me_ written all over it. "Hatter, this is _just_ like Carlotta St. Delaware, and just like then, you are full of it." She stood with a maddening look of authority. "We've just got to find the meteor so we can get _out_ of this madhouse and back where we belong."

Hatter seethed, rising to meet her gaze on opposing ends of the campfire. "I think the attacks would _stop_ if we stopped looking for this stupid meteor! You are just so dead-set on returning to _your_ world that you don't _mind_ putting the rest of us in unnecessary danger!"

"_My_ world?" Alice shouted, eyes widening in disbelief. "_Unnecessary_ danger?"

The two of them stood staunchly where they were, mouths in firm lines and fuming at each other.

"I'm going to go make room in our luggage for all the leftover borogrove!" Charlie interjected with exaggerated cheer, looking furtively at the two of them before shuffling off to the corner of the camp where the horses were also cowering.

"It's _your_ world, too!" Alice started, pointing accusingly. "We built a home there, Hatter—"

"We can start over _here!_ We can make a new home _here!_" he countered. "In Wonderland!"

"What," she laughed, "so we can choose to live in either a place infested with monsters and man-eating flowers, or a city so run-down and decrepit that it's practically crumbling to dust in front of your _eyes?_ Not to mention—" she gave him a scathing look, "the alleged _assassins_ wandering around?"

"_We,_" he asserted, "are currently in the most _bloodthirsty_ section of the most _dangerous_ forest in Wonderland, and _you_ are the one insisting that we stay here, so don't stand there and talk about how _dangerous_ Wonderland is, all judgmental. You've only ever been in the worst parts of Wonderland, you haven't _grown up_ here like I have."

He circled around the fire to stand with her, but she circled in the same direction to keep him on the opposite side. He persevered. "I went out and saw the City when you were resting in the teashop, and I've _seen_ how it's changed. Jack's done _good things_ with the City, Alice. There's _grass_ on the ground for the first time since my parents were kids, for God's sake. It's a different place than the Wonderland I knew—"

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," Alice said, her hands coming up to her head, fingers tangling in her hair like she was going to pull out handfuls of it in sheer frustration. "I can't _believe_ I'm hearing this!" Her face was starting to crumple like she would cry, but Hatter didn't stop his heated argument, determined to get his point across.

"Wonderland doesn't need the Looking Glass any more, Alice!" he said. "Jack has stopped the Tea trade, we don't kidnap people from your world any more, there's no _reason_ for the Looking Glass to be operational. The _only_ reason this whole charade is happening in the _first_ place is because you're being so _selfish!_"

"_YES! I want to go **HOME!**_" she cried, her hands fisted at her sides. "I don't belong here, with your talking plants and your horses and meteors and monster-infested forests and… vertical cities with buildings only connected by _narrow-ass ledges_! For heaven's sake, Hatter, I can't believe you have the _nerve_ to just…" she spluttered, gesturing madly, "_stand_ there and ask me to leave everything I've known, my job, my friends, my _Mother—_"

"None of that bothered you when it was the _other way around_."

Alice paused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you weren't so keen to understand _my_ losses when I followed you through to _your_ world!" Hatter spat. "What about the sacrifices _I_ made, yeah? You can be such a _hypocrite_, Alice don't belong in _your_ world either – in fact, I think it's pretty ridiculous – but I make an _effort_ to understand." He crossed to her side of the fire so quickly that Alice didn't have time to run, and he grabbed her wrist. This close to the orange glow of the fire, one illuminated eye glowed fiercely at her, the rest of his face darkened like a mask. "I made the choice to adapt because I loved you," he whispered urgently. "And now, when our situations are reversed and we may have no choice…" his voice faltered in barely concealed pain that made Alice's heart hurt. "Why won't you even _consider_ doing the same?"

Alice's breath stalled in her lungs, her heartbeat slowing its manic pace. "When I thought I might be stuck here, and I asked you what you would do…" She gulped. "You said you'd take care of me."

Hatter nodded. "That's what I'm trying to do."

Alice squeezed her eyes shut and pictured her mother, twice abandoned, all alone in the world with no explanation of 'why' or even 'where'. She'd _felt_ that pain, _lived_ with it for ten years… had _lost_ herself in it…

She felt her resolve turn, shift, and fall into place like a puzzle piece.

"You're lying," she said finally, wrenching her wrist out of his grasp with a well-practiced twist. "Because what _I need_ is to get home, and obviously I can't trust you to help me do that anymore."

"Alice—"

"No!" It was the hardest thing, stepping away from him – even now her body was instinctively bracing itself for all of what she would feel if she just stepped into his arms and let him hug everything away, smelling of allspice and leather jackets and… she shook the thoughts out of her head. "I can't _trust_ you, Hatter! I don't think I ever could – after all these months, you're still trying to rope me into your grand scheme, your _ultimate goal_-"

"That's not true! Alice," Hatter pleaded, his voice cracking on her name, "Alice, listen to what you're sayin'—"

"I'll do it myself if I have to," she said, standing tall and forcing the tears away, "_I_ will be taking care of _myself_. I did it a long time ago and I'll do it again, and_ you_," she pointed directly at him, cutting off what he'd been about to say, "will _leave_."

She turned to walk away, but Hatter shouted in protest, running up to block her escape with his arms stretched as wide as they would go. "I'm not leaving, Alice!" he insisted, breathing heavily and ignoring the single tear that escaped as she shook his head fiercely. "You know me – all those times I went back to the Casino for you, walking right into the lion's den I did – so you know _I won't leave you_."

Alice's bottom lip threatened to tremble, but she held fast, looking him straight in the eyes. "I…" she started, but faltered at the hurt and pain reflected in his expression. He looked so broken…

_You can't trust him,_ she reminded herself, _and you can't afford to lose your focus, can't afford to give up._

"I'm going to do what I need to do to get home," she said, "And I don't think you can help me any more."

She wrestled her way past his outstretched arms and stalked over to Bill, yanking off her bags. "Take Bill with you when you go," she said, not looking back at him, knowing she would crumble if she did. "I think he always liked you best."

Then she walked into the dark of the forest without a backward look. Only when the fire's glow shrank to the size of her thumb behind her did she allow herself to sink to the forest floor in a jumbled mess.

* * *

..

Hatter watched Alice's hair whip behind her as she walked away, and immediately tried to follow, argument ready on his tongue… but Charlie stopped him with a firm hand.

_Charlie_. With a flush of embarrassment, Hatter realized he'd forgotten they'd had an audience… Yet the firm hand gripping Hatter's shoulder tightly was strong evidence to the contrary. "Let her go," Charlie said pityingly. "Let her cool off, you know, and all that. _Women!_" he tried, shaking his head dramatically.

"But the forest," Hatter protested. "It's nighttime, Charlie, you _know_ what could find her out there—"

"She'll be fine," Charlie said, not-so-gently guiding Hatter back to the fire. "She won't stray far from camp, she's a smart girl. And you _both_ need time to clear your heads."

"I don't understand," Hatter bit out through clenched teeth, sitting down heavily down on a log and squeezing his fists to his temples. "I didn't—How did—"

He stood up suddenly, running over to the nearest tree and punching it with enough force to knock out an elephant. The tree cracked and teetered dangerously, the bark within a foot's radius of Hatter's fist exploding into dust and woodchips. Charlie winced.

"Ooh, don't do that," he said, rushing over and pushing Hatter back to the fire. "See what I mean? _Clearing your heads!_ Very important. Just because _you_ can't hear trees cry in pain doesn't mean that they're _not_, you know. Benefits of the Black Arts," he said wisely, tapping his head. "Empathy with one's surroundings. That's how I'm so good with _people_!"

Hatter didn't seem to be listening. His eyes were fuzzy, unfocused, turned inward. "I think I broke my hand," he said blankly. Charlie looked down at it—some of the knuckles did seem to be a bit… bloody.

"Here," he said, sitting Hatter down by the fire. He walked over to Guinevere and reached into a pouch on her saddle. "I always keep Liffaleaf around for just such an emergency. You never know when you're going to be gored by a borogrove!" he chortled. Hatter didn't react. Shaking his head at his friend's lack of humor, Charlie separated only half of one, large leaf from the others and folded up the rest of the package, placing it reverently back in Guinevere's pouch. Sitting down next to Hatter by the fire, he wrapped the leaf carefully around his knuckles with gauze.

"Great stuff, Liffaleaf. Does wonders for heavy bleeding, nothing else quite like it. And…there!" he said upon finishing. "Good as new in the morning, eh? You'll live to punch trees another day." He paused.

"Yes, Charlie, you're trying to make me feel better, I _get_ it," Hatter snapped. He rubbed his good hand wearily across his face, wiping the tear tracks away that had appeared without his knowing. "You don't…" he gulped. "You don't think she'll actually… I mean obviously, I knew she had trust issues when I _met_ her, but after all we've been through I... I mean, I don't know what I'd _do_ without…"

Charlie patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. "Look," he admitted. "I've never had any experience with women—_ever,_ really—so I'm afraid I can't be of much help in that regard. But all the women I've ever known have been _Alice._ And I can say for certain that I don't think Alice has it in her to abandon _anybody,_ let alone you."

Hatter didn't say anything. Charlie had it on the tip of his tongue to offer some old Knight clichés about relationships and women…but decided against it. He settled on a tired-sounding, "So many _dramatics _lately."

"That's what you get for going on a _quest_," Hatter replied, voice gravelly with exhaustion. Charlie nodded and continued staring at the fire.

The two men stayed that way until they drifted off to sleep.

* * *

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	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:** This chapter is a bit shorter than average... sorry about that. But not all ithat/i sorry, since I just finished a super-long one that'll be posted sometime next week. ^_^;; Enjoy!

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That same night, albeit far away and in an entirely different setting – rough forest ground traded for polished marble, dirty, scratchy clothes traded for lustrous silks and satins, and chewy borogrove traded for soft, succulent Hopplehond – a very similar fight was happening.

_Except,_ the Duchess thought sourly, _that it wasn't really at all._

They were doing that thing couples do when they want to fight, they want to yell and scream and throw things at each other, but they know that if one person says a single word it'll shatter the tenuous peace and all hell will break loose. So they just sit there, at the dinner table, eating their Hopplehond and not saying a word. Fighting silently. All the serving Clubs had felt the tension in the room, moving to the outskirts of the dining hall and hovering near the doors in case immediate exit was necessary.

The Duchess hated it, hated the whole situation. Jack looked like he'd aged thirty years in a week—his blonde hair now had clear streaks of gray in it, passing the stage of looking "stylish" and now looking like he could have been the Duchess' older brother. Wrinkles had deepened around his eyes and mouth, and his blue eyes never _ever_ sparkled anymore. The Duchess had it on good authority from the Spades that he hadn't even _touched_ his favorite black flamingo-bike in weeks… and that almost as much as his appearance convinced the Duchess that something was really and truly _wrong_. Even when they had been teenagers she'd had it in her mind that he loved that flamingo even more than he'd loved _her_.

And this not-fighting, something that had been so familiar during the Queen's reign when one wasn't allowed to say _anything_ incendiary, now seemed childish and stupid – two things that the Duchess was proud to not count as her primary characteristics anymore.

So she said "What the _hell_ is wrong with you, Jack?" in the middle of their nice, quiet dinner, and decided to let the chips fall where they may.

Peace was overrated, anyway.

He looked up at her sharply, his mouth twisting into an ugly expression. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied. The Duchess set her fork down on the table with a loud _clatter_ and leaned forward over her half-eaten Hopplehond.

"I mean, _look_ at yourself!" she hissed. "You look older than your father _ever_ did, your attitude lately has been _horrible,_ and…" she pointed, "you've had a wrinkle in your tie _all day,_ and not_ once _have I seen you try to straighten it out. So spill!"

"Shut _up,_ Duchess!" he yelled, throwing his fork across the room and nearly hitting Seven. She bristled and squared her shoulders, waving the staff out of the dining room – an order they eagerly followed.

"Jack," she started, her mouth drawn into a tight line, "is this about Alice?"

He didn't say anything, just looked at her murderously.

"It _is,_ isn't it? You _are_ still in love with her!" She rose from her seat and started to pace. "You've been looking worse and worse ever since she arrived. You're still in love with her and don't want her to leave, is that it?"

"No," Jack bit out through clenched teeth, both of his hands fisted tight on the tabletop. "I love _you,_ Duchess."

"Don't say that," she said seriously. "Don't say that, don't you _dare_ say that unless you mean it. I'm _done_ with empty declarations, Jack! I might have been willing to let them slide when I was still just a mistress, but dammit!" She straightened up to her full height and flipped her hair expertly behind her shoulder. "I'm the Queen of Hearts now, and I won't be treated that way any more!"

"You weren't supposed to be," he muttered under his breath. The Duchess heard it anyway, her ears catching the admission as though he had shouted.

A long, quiet moment stretched across the dining hall.

"So it's true," she whispered. She closed her eyes and tried to remember how to breathe. "You _did_ ask her first. I heard whispers, _rumors,_ but…I just…" She shook her head, trying to regain her composure at the sound of Jack's footsteps coming around to face her.

"You need to leave." His voice was low, dangerous, his drooping eyes and pallid skin making him look, if for only an instant, almost…_predatory._ The Duchess took an involuntary step back and said nothing.

"You are a _colossal_ disappointment as Queen," he continued, advancing slowly. "I should have forced Alice to stay from the start. You are weak, pathetic, stupid, and too emotional for the job. I never wanted you as my _partner_, I never wanted you as my _wife_, I certainly never wanted you as my _Queen,_ and you should _just GO!_"

That last part was accompanied by a forceful shove toward the door that left her near-sprawling across the slippery marbled floor. In the back of her mind, the Duchess was almost glad for the shove—she felt like she had frozen solid in her shock, immovable, unthinking.

"You _never_ loved me." It didn't feel so much like realization as it did _acceptance,_ the acknowledgment of the monster she'd always feared _actually lived_ in that closet.

"Noooo…" Jack mumbled behind her, his voice muffled. The Duchess turned around to find him on his knees, trembling fingers covering his face. "No, Duchess, _I love you_." He looked up, his eyes wide and haunted. "Leave," he begged. "Leave, go, _don't look at me like that!_"

The Duchess took a step backward and a single, deep breath. "What is _wrong_ with you?" Her whispered plea cracked and trembled, looking down at this crumpled, ashen figure, clutching his head and whimpering in pain…

_He's like a beast,_ she thought guiltily. _He's like a… a… he doesn't even look human…_

"Jack," she said, gaining strength from her own resolve. "I am going to figure out what's _wrong_ with you. I am going to leave, and I'll come back with help, and… just… just hold on in there, darling," she pleaded, "just… I'm going to _fix this._"

And with that, she turned her back on him and fled, the door shutting behind her with an echoing clatter of tumblers.

She'd even _locked him in_, he realized.

Somewhere, a voice laughed. Confining him… she didn't even _realize_ yet how impossible that was, how little it mattered. His spine straightened imperceptibly as he knelt there on the floor. **"****LORY!**"

"Good _lord,_ there's no need to shout like that," said a voice from off to his left. Jack turned around to find Lory already standing by the far entrance, hands folded behind his back and lips pursed in displeasure.

Jack stood and made his way across the dining hall to stand in front of him, the two of them mirror images of disdain. "How long have you been there?"

"Not long."

"What did you do with the body?"

Lory hesitated, just a moment—something he didn't ever recall doing before in his life, _especially_ when talking to his superiors—and settled on, "I haven't finished with him, yet."

Jack stilled. "You mean he's _alive?_"

"Unfortunately so, sir. I was just about to—"

_CRACK!_

Lory's head snapped to the side, his ice-blue eyes wide in surprise, frozen – and Jack just stood there with his hand outstretched, still stinging from the impact.

"Well." Lory's eyes narrowed into slits, sending a shiver of fear down Jack's spine. "That makes things simpler."

Before Jack could even think to run, Lory had grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall with enough force to rip hairline cracks through the marble. "I'm afraid you've lost my services, sir."

"You're not going to kill me," Jack said confidently, apparently not even caring about the blood his back was smearing across the wall as Lory dragged him, still pinned by the throat, to the nearest window. "Cover-ups aren't your thing, Lory – that's why you prefer to control things and kill from a distance—"

"This a special circumstance," Lory said. "After all, you _are_ the King. You deserve special treatment." He flicked open the window latch with a long, pointed finger and pushed it open calmly. He looked for all the world like he was just enjoying the view—40 decks up, the dining hall had a perfect panoramic view of the Tulgey Wood, a dark green blob in the distance that lined the horizon. Lory casually looked down at the gardens below, partially covered by fog coming in from the Lake. "My," he said dryly. "That's a long way down."

"I have a job for you," Jack said. Lory rolled his eyes.

"I'm afraid it doesn't really _work_ that way anymore. You see, this is the part where I just _kill_ you and go on with my life. I _like_ this part."

"I'm done with trying to knock off Hatter," Jack continued as though he had never been interrupted. "That ship has sailed. Thanks to your incompetence—" he coughed as Lory tightened the fingers around his throat, a little dribble of blood oozing out the side of his mouth, "—I'm running out of options. I don't have _time_ anymore to try and lead Alice here of her own volition, I need her _now._"

"Kidnapping?" Lory raised an eyebrow. "What in the _world_ would make you think that a _kidnapping_ would be enough to entice me not to throw you out this window? Throwing people off of tall things is the _best,_ there's such a _scream_ as they go down-"

"I'll release your pet."

Lory's eyes widened abruptly, his grip loosening. "You'd… you'd release Scree?" he sounded childish, giddy even, stoic composure for once totally forgotten. Jack spoke quickly.

"Leave me alive – no coming back to kill me later on in my reign. Bring Alice here, and injure Hatter enough so that he won't be able to follow. That's all I ask… and you can see her at first light tomorrow."

Lory's eyes narrowed. "I get Scree _first,_" he warned. "At first light. _Then_ I go. Also, I get to kill the old man." His eyes narrowed. "He's bested me too many times in my own forest. I don't like him."

"Deal." Jack coughed, a bit more blood splattering on his chin. Lory smirked and let him go, letting him fall to the floor in a jumbled heap.

"I do _so_ enjoy our little talks, Jack." He stepped carefully over him and walked over to the dinner table, helping himself to a roll and buttering it generously. Jack gave him the dirtiest look he could manage from where he was gathering his strength on the floor, but Lory seemed nonplussed.

"What?" he asked casually. "It's the _best_ butter."

In a blink he was gone, taking the roll with him and leaving the single red feather as the only audience to Jack's curses.

* * *

..


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N:** Sorry about the long gap, you guys. I'm studying abroad at the moment, and I'm using all my free time to explore instead of write. I'll update every now and then, I promise - I'm not going to let this story go unfinished! For now, just enjoy this chapter. ^_^ Thanks for all the support and nudges to update - it helps me get my butt in gear!

* * *

..

The first thing the Duchess did after locking Jack in the Dining Hall was promptly trip and fall flat on her face while trying to run in her heels. Brushing her concerned attendants aside, all of them barely able to hide their curiosity over that night's events, Duchess bustled past them and down the hallway leading to her room.

_First things first,_ she thought, kicking off her shoes and nestling her aching toes deep into the plush carpet of their bedroom. She rang the summons bell on her dresser and flung open the double doors to her walk-in closet. "Nine," she called out when she heard him approach. "I need some food from the kitchens in a knapsack. Enough for… let's say three days. Bread, water, some fruit, cheese… you know, _travel_ food."

"Yes Ma'am," she heard distantly, busily yanking on her one and only pair of pants. Duchess didn't like pants in general, but these were made of a shiny, black Momerath hide that she particularly liked. It looked like leather, fit like a glove, and wore like _iron_. She threw a matching black vest over her red top and big, sturdy boots normally used for supervising major Hedge Maze maintenance. She was putting the finishing touches on her hair, fixing the voluminous waves into a tight French braid, when Nine returned with her knapsack.

"Thank you," she said curtly, grabbing the bag from his hands and slinging it over her shoulder on her way out the door without missing a beat. "Send word to the stables to have Diamond ready. I'll be there shortly."

..

The Duchess had only ever been to the armory once before – when the "Knights" had been attacking the palace and she'd grabbed a weapon in case her rescue of Jack went awry – but it stood out in her memory. Also, even if she hadn't been there _physically_ in months, she had recently needed to have the whole place reorganized and inventoried, so she was intimately familiar with its contents. She knocked on the door loudly, hoping the attendant would be in there so she wouldn't have to search for him.

She was in luck. The Three of Spades opened the door and jumped in surprise upon recognizing her. "Y- your Majesty!"

"I need something compact and automatic," she said, forgoing the normal formalities and striding past him purposefully. "Quieter than a gun, but just as powerful. Would you recommend the crossbow or harpoon gun?"

It took a moment for the Three to catch up with her train of thought. "You need… um, well…" He coughed and pointed toward the rack of compact hunting crossbows. "These are probably what you're looking for, Majesty. The harpoon guns have more force, but the chain…"

"Only good for short distances," the Duchess muttered, taking a hunting crossbow off the rack and examining it carefully. Her fingers were trembling so violently that she could barely hold it without dropping – she forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath. Part of being Queen was keeping up appearances. It wouldn't do to let the staff know how _terrified_ she was.

The crossbow was elegantly constructed and extremely compact, perhaps only a little bit longer than her forearm. "Great," she said. She tossed him her knapsack. "I'll be taking this with me; fill it with ammo." As an afterthought, she added, "And put a couple exploding ones in there, too."

..

She let Diamond carry her as far as the Lake before she finally stopped running. The last few rays of light from the sunset were just clinging onto the horizon, and Duchess knew that in ten minutes' time she'd have only the meager moonlight to guide her. She dismounted right on the shoreline and sat on a flat-topped rock, watching Diamond drink and trying to come up with a plan.

She wasn't doing very well—her thoughts were scattered, frazzled, trying to wrap her head around what had just happened. She couldn't shake the image of Jack from her mind: pale, pathetic, angry…in pain… When they had met, she recalled with a sigh, she had been _so sure_ that he was going to make her happy forever.

..

It had been a pretty simple proposal, which, considering the two of them, was something extraordinary in itself. The Duchess had often wondered in the following months how odd that, given they had lived their lives in glitz, glamour, and theatrics, something so monumental should be so quiet, so effortless.

She had been re-puffing her hair to its normal volume when she heard a knock on her trailer door. "Come in," she called.

Jack walked in, filling up her tiny trailer and, it seemed to the Duchess, taking all the oxygen along with it. She struggled to keep her composure calm and unimpressed – the key to controlling men, she had found, was to make them feel like they needed to _impress_ you.

"Duchess," he began, first folding his hands in front of them and then putting them to his sides where his fingers flickered nervously. Duchess' eyebrows drew together – Jack was anxious about something. "You _do_ know that I love you. Very much, in fact."

Duchess' composure slipped, the baited hitch in her breath a betrayal of her excitement. She stood up to match him and took his slightly shaking hands in hers. "I know you do, Jack," she said.

"But you know that someday I will be _King_." His tone was cautious, but Duchess did not waver.

"Of course I know _that_," she said, smiling teasingly and moving to kiss his cheek. "But you are a _good_ man, Jack, and you will be a _good_ King."

He relaxed visibly, even smiled, a _real_ smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes ever-so-slightly. "Then," he said, dropping down to one knee –

-the Duchess' breath literally _stopped_ in her throat—

-"Duchess, you are as intelligent and kind as you are beautiful, and I want you by my side when I create a new Wonderland." He took a deep breath. "Will you please do me the honor of being my wife?"

And what else could she say?

The Queen _was_ as short as rumors had whispered, with a wide face and a wider body. She peered critically at Duchess from the dais across the room, settled in her enormous throne and not saying a word. The Duchess just stood there and waited to be addressed, trying desperately not to fidget and instead look as cool and collected as possible.

(Her whole life, she would never forget the feeling of fear that shivered through her when Jack finally said, "Of course, you know my _mother_ will have to give her approval."

"What?" she had asked him sharply. "I—I mean—"

"Don't look so surprised," he said smoothly, as though he were surprising her with something actually _pleasant_, like _jewelry_. "You will be her immediate successor, remember. Besides, it's tradition: the reigning Queen has to approve the Royal Jack's choice of wife."

"She won't like me." It wasn't an opinion she was voicing: it was a fact.

The two of them looked at each other with equally stubborn expressions (hers slightly more terrified). Eventually Jack came over and took her hands in his.

"She'll like you," he comforted. "She _will_. You've landed every audition you've ever had, haven't you? This is just another one of those, and the rules are the same: be confident and _don't give in._")

In the throne room, seconds ticked by in an excruciatingly slow and deafeningly silent manner. Almost a whole minute had passed before the Queen finally stood up and said:

"You're a pretty little thing."

Duchess didn't quite know what the proper response to this was, so she just settled for a little bow and continued to stare calmly at the opposing wall as the Queen advanced.

"Stupid, though," she continued, her voice dripping with disdain. "And weak, too, that much is obvious."

The Duchess' eyes snapped to the Queen's face in shock. She couldn't _believe_… "Excuse me!" she spluttered.

"Oh, she speaks!" the Queen said in a mocking tone, stopping her advance within an arm's reach of the Duchess. "It doesn't matter, you know. I can already tell you'll never be a good Queen. It's just not in you, my dear." She leaned forward, smiling slow and cat-like. "You're too _soft_. Positively _gutless_."

"I want to marry your son," the Duchess declared, and even though her face and posture remained relaxed her voice sounded shaky. "And he wants to marry me."

"Jack doesn't know what he wants," the Queen dismissed, turning away and walking back to her throne. "Fortunately, _I_ do."

The Duchess stayed a careful five steps behind as the Queen moved back to sit on her throne. Her mind was running wild with the possible outcomes of this meeting, but she tried not to dwell on _any_ of them… particularly the ones that ended with her headless. She reached unconsciously for her throat at the thought.

"I think you'll make a good wife for Jack," the Queen said suddenly. The Duchess only barely managed to keep her jaw from dropping in shock. The Queen didn't give her a chance to respond, saying, "I know you will, because you'll do what I _tell _you. Jack is as young and stupid as you are – a wildly romantic love affair will do wonders for his public image, and _I_ need someone to keep an _eye_ on him."

The Duchess paused. "What makes you think I'll do that?"

The Queen smiled. "Because you want to be rich and famous and comfortable. You want have an easy life and the freedom to be a silly, pretty thing. In short, you want to marry my son, and_iI_ know that in order to do that you will do what I _tell_ you to do. Everyone wins."

The Duchess gulped and pursed her lips together, trying her best to meet the Queen's glare with one of her own.

But the Duchess was no match for the Queen of Hearts—her eyes flickered down to the floor obediently.

"I expect weekly reports," the Queen said. "We'll announce your engagement tomorrow. You may go."

And before Duchess could utter a sound of resentment, or opposition, or even surprise… the doors to the throne room slammed shut behind her, the two very nice Clubs at her elbows escorting her out of the palace.

..

Now, three years older and ten years wiser, the Duchess was feeling an acute sense of sympathy for her former self. She had so badly wanted that kind of life… she had justified her betrayal by thinking that, once she was Queen and Jack was King, they could put the past behind them. The two of them would be kind and powerful and just, and they would have the resources to take on anything that threatened them.

And then everything had more or less hit the fan, leaving her back at square one: feeling completely out of her depth, drowning in uncertainty, alone and scared. Scared for her husband, scared for her kingdom… and, sitting here on the steadily darkening lakeside with only her horse for company, scared for her own personal safety.

_I'm tired of being scared,_ said a small voice in the back of her head.

The last vestiges of the sun slipped beyond the horizon, and the world faded away.

_I'm tired of being scared,_ the voice said, a little bit louder. A feeling of resolve settled in the pit of the Duchess' stomach, and she sat up a little straighter on her rock. _The Queen said I was stupid and weak,_ she thought. _Well, by God, I'm not that girl anymore!_

She stood up and, feeling energy pulsing through her every pore, grabbed a rock and flung it out into the Lake. "_I_ am Queen!" she yelled into the night, letting the sound bounce off the Lake's surface and echo oddly into the thin night air. "And _I_ make the rules now!"

She felt like she was on _fire_, like she could fly, like she could climb a mountain! It almost made her laugh out loud, this feeling of invincibility. For lack of a proper audience, she grabbed Diamond's reigns and pulled the horse's head closer so she could look straight into her big, brown eyes. "Diamond," she said very seriously, "We are DONE being scared. We are going into that forest, and we will find Alice, Hatter, and Charlie, because if anyone in Wonderland can help us it's them, and we are going to _save my husband!_"

And with that, she climbed aboard and galloped off into the night.

.. 


	23. Chapter 23

_**Warning:** This chapter contains… (sigh)…_

**A/N:** …You know what? I'm just going to change the rating on this sucker. There's sex and blood and violence and then more sex just because I feel like it, and yeah I could just keep posting warnings, but why bother? -_-;; I swear there's a light at the end of the tunnel, you guys! But part of the reason why I wanted to write this was because the characters in "Alice" iare/i adults. I wanted to give them a big scary adventure, and basically…

Well, confession time, people. The whole reason I wrote this story is because I wanted to give _everyone_ a chance to be more badass. That was my big motivator. They were great in the original series, every single one of them, but I knew that they were capable of _more,_ and I wanted to write that. So this Grand Epic was born, and we're swimming through the halfway-point, everything-goes-to-shit-point right now, and it's going to get (believe it or not) a lot. More. Crazy.

I'm having fun. I hope you guys are.

Enjoy the chapter.

* * *

..

As dawn broke the next morning, a terrible scream ripped through the air, followed by a maniacal, gleeful laugh. The two sounds mingled and echoed across the still surface of the Lake, sending birds flying from their nests in search of new roosts.

Lory and Scree were reunited once again, and in the pale orange light of a Wonderland sunrise, the winged beast bore its master back to their domain… and the prey that lay waiting for them.

Hatter woke up the next morning with an enormous crick in his neck – sometime in the night he'd slid from his sitting position on the log to end with his neck propped up awkwardly. He groaned and cracked it expertly, but winced as the hand he brought up to massage it throbbed with its own pain.

The previous night's events came flooding back to him – the fight with Alice, the subsequent punching of the tree (he looked over guiltily at the split bark, still oozing fresh, gleaming tree sap), and Charlie's pitiful attempts at cheering him up. Hatter looked down at the still-sleeping Knight with a shake of his head.

_Stupid old man,_ he thought, although the sentiment lacked any sort of malice, and he took great care not to wake up him when he rose and prepared the horses for another long day's ride. Buckling the saddles with practiced absentmindedness that belied the flurry of guilty thoughts buzzing underneath, he surreptitiously scanned the trees for a bright blue spot that would signify Alice's sleeping bag.

_'tgetsickifshedoesI'llneverheartheendofit-_

There was a soft _flump_ behind him.

He froze. Silence fell once more, but it was too late – he could sense her presence like he was standing next to a lightning rod. It made his skin tingle and the hairs on the back of his arm stand up. Sure enough, he turned around slowly on his heel, and Alice was standing eight feet away, her sleeping bag lying at her feet.

She looked horrible, he noticed, all wrinkled clothes, puffy eyes and matted hair. Then again, upon reflection Hatter realized that _he_ probably didn't look so hot either_, days_ from his last shower and right hand covered in bandages.

Then, simultaneously, they both said: "I didn't mean to hurt you…" the ends of their sentences trailing off into silence.

"You go first," Hatter said.

Alice didn't meet his eyes. "…but I still think I'm right."

Hatter nodded slowly. "Then I guess we're at an impasse, because logic's on my side."

A little crinkle appeared between Alice's eyebrows. "Excuse me—"

But their budding argument was suddenly interrupted by a loud screech filling the air, sending both of them into an instinctive huddle on the ground, bringing their hands up to cover their ears. Charlie, for his part, jolted awake from his sleeping position as though he'd been electrocuted and immediately reached for his armor. "Oh no…" he moaned, fumbling with his chainmail. "It's impossible…"

Hatter ran over to help him, readjusting his hat as he did so. "What was that, Charlie?" he demanded sharply. The knight looked up at him, pale with fright enough to match his snowy white hair.

"I haven't heard that screech in _years_," he intoned dramatically, buckling on his escutcheon hurriedly and reaching for his boots. Hatter followed his lead and started collecting his stuff, too, and out of the corner of his eye he noticed Alice doing the same. "I thought the Royal Family had _imprisoned_ the thing _years_ ago, before they launched the attack against the Knights, even—"

"Charlie!" Hatter bit out through clenched teeth, _"What is it?"_

The old man gulped. "I'm afraid it's the Scree."

Right on cue, another screech split the air, causing every member of the party to cry out and attempt to cover their ears, which were almost vibrating with the intensity of the sound.

It was getting closer, Hatter realized. And although he had never heard of a Scree in his life, he had the very strong impression that it was not a beast he would like to meet. "We've got to run," he said simply.

Turning on his heel, he sprinted back to the horses, a full-armored Charlie at his heels, and jumped aboard. "Alice!" he yelled, holding out his hand. "Get up here!"

She scowled at his hand and opened her mouth to say something no doubt rude, but just as she did so another screech sounded. Hatter was able to stay in his saddle and bite back the cry of pain this time, but he noticed that a trickle of blood had started to leak out his nose. He wasn't at all sure what the sound waves this creature created would do to a person up-close, and he didn't want to find out.

"It's too close!" Charlie called out from atop Guinevere. The three of them couldn't ignore the crashing sounds of something very large approaching them at high velocity through the trees. "We'll never ride fast enough to outrun it… we must _hide!_"

_"WHERE?"_ Alice yelled, ignoring Hatter's still-outstretched hand and climbing atop Pat's back instead.

Charlie just gestured with his hands and ran off, Guinievere snorting with relief. Hatter took up the rear of the line so that Alice would be protected in the middle, and Charlie led them through the trees on the outskirts of their campsite. Hatter was about to gripe that for people who couldn't afford to run from the beast, that was sure what it looked like, when through the densely-packed foliage he could see a large stone wall that he hadn't noticed in the darkness of the previous night. "Charlie… is that a _cave?_"

"I spotted it last night while you two were fighting!" he answered.

"Why didn't you tell us so that we could've slept there for the night?" Alice asked.

"I didn't want to interrupt!"

Hatter had a scathing comment on the tip of his tongue, something about priorities that would doubtlessly have been very clever if not for the large metal bird that came crashing through the trees behind them at that very moment.

It was about twenty feet wide and long enough to block six lanes of traffic, its entire body made of large, jagged pieces of shiny silver metal. At the end of each giant wing and at the tip of each foot was a single smooth, metal claw long enough to skewer two men if they stood unfortunately close to one another. Little red eyes peeked out from above its beak, staring at the three of them with laser-like focus…and sitting on top of its head, red feathers smooth and gleaming and wearing a maniacally triumphant grin, was a bird-like man with pointed features that Hatter didn't recognize.

Hatter didn't know why he stayed turned around on his saddle for so long – his rule had _always_ been "don't look back" – but whether it was out of trying to absorb what he was seeing or the shock of the sudden beast or just plain fear, he looked at it long enough to lock eyes with the bird-man controlling it.

For a second, they just stared at each other.

The bird-man leaned close to the beast's head and said something too quietly for Hatter to hear, and just as Hatter had narrowed his eyes in suspicion and opened his mouth to yell a warning to Alice, he saw a gleam of silver, heard a whooshing sound, and—

Throughout his life, Hatter had been tortured, assaulted, and imprisoned more times than he cared to recount. It was the downside to being a professional con man and occasional spy—almost every part of his body had been, at some point, electrocuted, sliced, bruised, twisted, burnt, bleeding, and/or broken.

But, in all that time, he had never felt pain quite like _this_.

His brain absolutely exploded, every neuron firing and dying all at once. His vision went red and blurred, and it was only Bill's expert training that caught Hatter as he slumped over, instead of letting him crash to the ground. For his part, Hatter wasn't sure if he was crying out, or even just crying, all his senses were jumbled and gone and out of control as the giant metal claw withdrew from his torso where it had speared him, not through the belly-button, but _width-wise_. The beast had been almost surgically accurate in its aim, exactly piercing through that scant five inches of vulnerable space between the bottom of his ribs and the top of his pelvis to leave gaping holes the size of tennis balls on either side.

As a result, the single swipe would effectively annihilate almost every single organ in the torso… except for the heart and lungs. In fact, the only thing keeping Hatter's chest connected with his hips was the scant half-inch of skin and sinew composing his stomach and back.

Hatter thought he heard someone screaming…but then he was gone.

* * *

...

**_"HATTER!"_**

Every thought, every survival instinct completely fled Alice's mind at the onslaught of Hatter's screams, his inhuman cries of agony that chilled her blood and stopped her breath. She had yanked Pat around mid-gallop just in time to see the giant metal claw withdrawing from his torso, and the rivers of blood that streamed out of the open wounds and down Bill's flank.

Not caring about the giant monster that had gored him not even five seconds ago, not caring about Charlie, and _certainly_ not caring about her own personal safety at the moment, she could do nothing but ride furiously towards Hatter, screaming his name in a desperate and futile plea for consciousness, and catch him as he finally fell silent. Her stomach rolled at the sight of his hot blood flowing down her clothes and soaking into her top, already pooling on the ground.

_There was just…_ Alice whimpered, her shaking fingers fluttering over his open wounds, wanting to help but scared to touch for fear of making it worse.

…There was just _so much blood._

"Grab Bill's reigns," someone murmured hastily into her ear, and she obeyed. She could feel Pat's hooves pounding the ground furiously underneath her, and some part of her mind registered the sensation of movement and the sound of the beast pursuing them, but all she could do was watch Hatter's face, the only part of him not covered in blood and gore, and count his breaths. To look anywhere but at his face would probably cause her to faint at the moment, which, she knew, would do no good to anyone.

If she just looked at his face, she could just pretend that he was sleeping.

* * *

..

Lory wanted to _laugh._ The sense of victory coursing through his veins was elation defined, the smell of Wonderland blood _intoxicating._ Sure, it hadn't been _necessary_ to kill Hatter… but he had just been _sitting_ there! Such an easy mark, after all this time, all this evasion and delay, and he had just been _sitting_ atop that horse!

_Really,_ Lory thought with a smirk, _I would have been a fool to pass up that kind of opportunity._

Of course, the woman came riding to his side within moments, screaming her head off. They were playing right into his lap! Lory nudged Scree with his foot. Immediately and without further instruction, Scree surged forward with Lory riding coolly on his neck, one of Scree's feet slowly outstretched to grab the girl…

But at the last second, the Knight surged forward and grabbed the two of them, pulling them out of harm's way. _The stupid girl didn't even seem to **notice**,_ Lory realized, his mouth twisting into a disgusted sneer. He and Scree rose back into the air to try another dive, but by the time they had turned around the Knight had dragged their group into a densely packed cluster of trees.

Lory used Scree's claws to rip down the treetops and clear a path, but they were too slow – as soon as the view was clear, the three travelers had vanished into a hole on the side of a large stone outcropping. A cave, no doubt. Lory scowled – he should have _known,_ should have _anticipated_ this kind of evasive maneuver. This part of the forest butted up right next to the Endless Cliffs, and the place was _covered_ with little nooks and crannies.

Lory was not discouraged, however. Rather, he tapped into the trait that made him different from the rest of his assassin compatriots: patience.

He nudged Scree again with his foot, and she settled into one of the treetops still left intact… before turning both herself and Lory invisible.

(One of her more flashy talents, Lory would admit. Besides, of course, how very _shiny_ she was. Lory had always liked _shiny_ things… He _was_ half-bird, after all.)

Lory settled into a comfortable position, scratched Scree on top of her metallic head, and waited. The girl had to come out _sometime_. There were numerous caves embedded in the Endless Cliffs, but all of them were dead-ends. Once the Hatter was dead, which would be any moment now…. the only place for Alice to go was into Lory's waiting arms.

* * *

..

Once they had gotten Hatter off the horse and reclined him on the ground, he stirred and moaned, coughing little spurts of blood that trickled down his lips. He mumbled nonsense words, ravens and writing desks and crumbs, and didn't seem to recognize Alice's fervent pleas or the way she clung to his hand.

"Ch-Charlie!" she begged, watching him kneel down with a package of large leaves in his hand. "Charlie, what are we going to do? _Tell me what we're going to do!_"

"Liffaleaf," he said grimly but firmly. "Help me, Alice, we haven't much time. Now, we've got nothing to knock him out while I take care of him, so while he's floating in-and-out of consciousness it's your job to hold him steady."

Alice bit her lip and nodded, sniffling and placing a shaking hand on each of Hatter's shoulders but throwing her weight on them to hold steady. "What are you going to do?" she asked in a trembling voice, sounding for all the world like she was a lost, abandoned 10-year-old again.

"Liffaleaf is the great healing plant of Wonderland," he explained quickly. "Really the _only_ healing plant, it's all we ever need. I just need to stuff his wound full of it-"

"No!" Alice interrupted. "No, are you _serious?_ Stuffing a gaping wound with _leaves_, he'll _die_-"

"Not _Wonderlanders!_" Charlie barked at her. Alice froze—she'd never heard Charlie use that tone in her _life_, and certainly never at _her_. "You are still so _naive_ about our world, Alice, and unfortunately I don't have time to _explain_, so for now you'll just have to trust me! Now hold him steady—"

But Alice wasn't prepared, and Hatter's first jolt under her hands caught her by surprise. At the first touch of Liffaleaf being stuffed into his body, he roared in pain like a wild beast and jerked madly. Gritting her teeth, Alice threw all her weight onto his shoulders, pinning him to the ground as he writhed and screamed, Charlie stuffing leaf after leaf into his wound.

_It's almost over,_ Alice kept repeating to herself. _It's almost over, it's almost over, it's almost over…_

Eventually Hatter fell mercifully unconscious once more, the pain simply too much for his senses to bear and rendering him suddenly limp under Alice's hands.

"Finally," Charlie sighed. "I'm halfway done, Alice, but there's more yet to do. Go start a fire, get it as hot as you can and put the blade of my sword in it. Bring it to me when it turns red."

Alice nodded and dug out some of the tinder they kept in Pat's satchel. Within minutes she had stoked up a reasonable fire, Charlie's sword resting on the ashes and making odd squealing, crackling noises as it grew hotter and hotter.

"Are you going to sear his wounds shut?" she asked, impressed at how sturdy her voice sounded given that the man she loved most in the world was lying on a floor, in a cave, stuffed with leaves as his only medical aid, and that she had just proposed melting his flesh back together with a red-hot blade.

"Yes," Charlie said simply. "It's the only way to keep the leaves from falling back out, since he's got holes on either side."

Alice nodded, not trusting her voice. When the blade turned red she grabbed the sword's hilt and handed it to Charlie without a word. Equally as silent, he took the proffered sword, covered the wound with half of one of the leaves, and pressed the flat of the blade against it.

The only thought that Alice could hold on to was that Hatter stayed unconscious for this part – it was just enough for _her_ to stay conscious, hearing the sizzling of his seared flesh, the smell of it mingling with the burnt Liffaleaf. When he had finished, leaving the edges of the leaf still glowing hot, Charlie moved to Hatter's other side. Immediately he continued stuffing the gaping, bleeding mass full with every other leaf he had until there was none left but the half he had saved for searing it shut.

Alice forced herself to watch, and when Charlie sat back on his heels, looked at his handiwork and sighed, she finally excused herself, going as far back into the depths of the cave as she could manage before dropping to her knees and retching.

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	24. Chapter 24

**A/N:** I have no words. The comments you all left on my last chapter were so wonderful to read - I'm so lucky to have such a supportive group reading my work! ^_^ Thank you, thank you, thank you to all of you who've taken the time to drop me a word of encouragement! I hope you like this chapter just as much.

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The Duchess rode all night, counting on the meager moonlight sifting through the trees to light her way. The fire that had burned within her began to fade the further she rode, each mile of trees identical to the last, with no landmarks to guide her or provide a sense of _whereness_. For all she knew, the Duchess thought, slumping in her saddle, she'd been doing nothing but riding in a huge circle for hours.

And it was at such a time, exhausted and lost and feeling thoroughly, grumpily discouraged, that dawn broke and Duchess could _finally_ see something that she had just been about to miss.

Over to her left, through the clustered trunks and ferns and hanging vines, was a large stretch of scarred, burnt earth. It looked as though someone had razed a nearly perfect half-mile track of forest, the piles of ash ending abruptly on either side like an invisible wall. Duchess dismounted to inspect them closer, noting with surprise how the ashes still felt _warm_ under her feet.

This had happened _recently_.

"Come on," she muttered to Diamond, climbing back atop her saddle. "I've got a strong feeling that if there's a path of destruction, those three can't be far from it."

* * *

..

Alice looked up from the cave floor when she finally felt like she could compose herself again, wiping the little trails of vomit off her lips and chin. Now that she was taking a pause, a quiet breath—

She could hear water. The unmistakable dripping sound of a stream echoed from nearby.

Alice rushed back to the horses and grabbed a flashlight, along with their largest canteen. "I think I hear water," she told Charlie simply. "I'm going to go collect some so we can clean up." He nodded and continued to wrap Hatter's wounds in gauze, leaving her free to leave again.

Sure enough, upon closer inspection of the cave she found a little dribble of water streaming down from the ceiling, marking a glistening trail down the rock walls and collecting in a small pool. Alice collected some of the water in her hands and washed the acidic taste of her nausea out of her mouth before submerging the canteen as deep as she could in the small pool and returning back to camp.

Charlie was absolutely covered in Hatter's blood, the dark red stains trailing up to his elbows and splattered all across the armor that was now laying in pieces on the ground, waiting to be cleaned.

"Good timing," he told her with a cheerfulness that seemed oddly out-of-place. "I don't like to leave bloodstains on my armor for long, you see—it's the devil to clean off once it's dried."

With a tired smile, Alice knelt down and reached for a spare cloth. "What did you do to him, Charlie?" she asked quietly, wiping off his gauntlets in a steady circular motion.

"Liffaleaf… well, it's a stabilizer, of sorts," Charlie began. "It takes the place of Wonderland parts until they're completely healed on their own. Skin, blood, organs, whatever we need – just put some Liffaleaf over it, give it some time, and after the last of the leaf dissolves you're good as new."

"But that's…" Alice's voice trailed off at Charlie's look and she smiled apologetically at his single raised eyebrow.

"Impossible?" he finished for her. "Well, for Oysters, it is. It's just the way Wonderland physiology works. I can't explain _why_ it's that way, but there you go. Hatter's wounds are particularly severe, however. He'll probably need to sit there for a few days before he'll be up to walking again, and maybe even two weeks before he's completely healed."

"And in the meantime," Alice said, trying to understand, "The Liffaleaf in his body will… keep him alive until his organs heal on their own?"

"Indeed!" Charlie looked pleased that she'd caught on to his anatomy lesson so quickly. "When the leaves on his sides fade away, we'll know he's ready to start walking around again."

Alice looked at him curiously. "How do you know all this, Charlie?" He just looked so _unruffled_, so _optimistic_, sitting there with only his long johns and a smile.

He scoffed and shook his head. "I'm a Knight!"

At such a typical response, Alice couldn't help the little answering grin that flirted around the edges of her lips… her first _real_ smile in days. "I don't know what we'd do without you, Charlie," she said.

He shuffled around, looking a bit embarrassed and making a big show about picking up Alice's empty canteen. "I'll just take this back and re-fill it, shall I?"

As Charlie stood up to go, Alice looked down at her ruined top, already knowing that it was doomed – the warm brown sweater she'd put on two days ago because she'd started feeling chilly was now covered in blood, thoroughly soaked into the thick, soft fiber. In her head, she briefly turned over the possibility of _actually_ trying to wash the stains out with just the water from that tiny little stream… "I think I'll just burn it," she mused, having never been one for domestics.

* * *

..

Later on in the day Duchess found a long stretch of tramped foliage. Broken branches and flattened berries scattered everywhere down a long path, the end of which she couldn't see.

"Looks like a stampede," she mused aloud. "But not wide enough for several animals… maybe just one?" She guided Diamond down the path carefully, keeping her eyes peeled for signs of whether the beast was still about - almost a mile later, however, her question was answered. She smirked down at the remains of a campfire, next to which lay a pile of what looked like borogrove bones. The bones were barely even dry, meaning they were probably less than a day old.

"They're close."

* * *

..

Several hours later – after Alice had changed her clothes and watched the fire lick away the last remnants of her blood-soaked sweater – Hatter finally stirred. His head lolled to the side and he groaned, which quickly turned into a coughing fit. Alice was at his side in an instant with her canteen.

"Try not to move," she scolded. Carefully, she poured water into his mouth bit by bit, waiting for him to swallow each time. When he stopped coughing, he finally opened his eyes and looked up at her.

"Hey," he mumbled.

Alice's fretful expression softened the tiniest bit as she looked down at him. "Hey."

"What's the damage?" he croaked, making movement as though to sit up, but didn't get far before starting to cough again. Alice shook her head with a well-practiced eyeroll and placed a firm hand on his chest, forcing him to lie down so she could give him some more water.

"Well, Charlie used up every Liffaleaf he had patching you up, so considering half of your body is currently composed of _foliage_, I guess you're alright. At least, Charlie says you're going to be alright. He saved your life, you know."

Her voice trembled slightly against her will, and Hatter noticed. A crease appeared between his eyebrows. "Sorry if I frightened you," he said softly.

Alice almost laughed at the gross understatement. Frightened? There weren't words to describe the level of _frightened_ she had been. She leaned back and looked tiredly up at the rock ceiling. "I don't want to talk about it."

"It wasn't your fault, you know," Hatter said. "I got distracted, I left myself wide open for attack."

She didn't say anything.

He sighed and, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him wince even at that simple action. "You know," he remarked with a sidelong glance, "This never would have happened if you'd let me bring my bulletproof vest."

And Alice couldn't help it – she laughed, a _real, full-bellied laugh_. The sensation surprised her, and the tension in her shoulders leaked entirely away as she looked down at Hatter and tousled his hair fondly. She wasn't at all surprised to see him grinning brilliantly back at her, smug that he'd achieved this reaction.

Still chuckling, her hand traced a path down his shoulder where, for the first time, she noticed his bandaged knuckles. Alice's laughter faded away and she picked up his hand gently, cradling it in her own. "When did…?"

Hatter's smile faltered slightly and he carefully avoided her gaze. "I might have, you know… punched a tree," he admitted. "Last night."

"Oh."

An uncomfortable silence fell. Alice frowned intently down at his hand in hers, running the pad of her thumb across the gauzy material and worrying her lip.

"…Alice?" Hatter prodded. "What's—"

"I don't know what to do," she blurted out, keeping her eyes trained on his injured hand. "I've never… I've never lost sight of what I _wanted_ before. With other people, it's always help me or get out of my way, that's just how I _worked_. Last night in the forest… I thought you'd finally abandoned me. After all we've been through, every time you've come to back me up, I thought here we go, it's back to the way it's always been. And it _hurt_," she admitted. "It hurt tearing myself away from you, and it hurt trying to back to the way I was before. I don't know when that happened, that I became not _myself _anymore." She sighed. "I've been fiercely independent since I was a kid. Taking on the world – that was just my style. No Plan B's, and no compromises, because I've never had anything worth compromising _myself_ for."

Hatter looked at her intently. "Is that still true?"

Alice met his gaze and instantly knew.

"No," she said in a choked voice. His eyes crinkled at the corners and he tightened his hand around hers as she blabbered on. "When you were… God, it sounds so cheesy and I can't believe I'm saying this, but you've become a _part_ of me somehow. I don't know when it happened and I don't care. Hatter, _you_ are the first thing in my life that I've been willing to compromise for. So what if we live in my world or yours, we'll figure it out. I don't care which side of the Glass I'm on as long as it's the side that's got you in it. When I thought you were going to… Hatter, there was so much blood…"

"Marry me," he interrupted.

Her rant came to a screeching halt, and for an instant, she thought her heart might actually have stopped beating. "Say that again?" she asked breathlessly, searching his face for some sign of mischief or humor. She found none. His eyes were shining brightly and a bright flush had come over his face.

"Everything you've said goes double for me, kid." He exhaled shakily and rolled his eyes. "I mean, remember who _I_ was when we met? Never an honest or brave moment in my life. I'd never had—" He swallowed, eyes closing briefly. "I'd never had this much to lose. And this probably isn't the right time to do this, because you deserve more than a man stuffed with leaves on the floor of a cave in a monster-infested forest – damn, I don't even have a _ring_, but… Alice, I need you. And hell," he laughed. "I swear that I will come bail you out of every harebrained scheme and duty-bound quest you get yourself into for the rest of your _life_ as long as you say you'll let me. Just say you'll let me. Say that you'll marry me."

Alice couldn't say anything. She'd lost the words. He was right, it _did_ seem wildly inappropriate somehow, at this moment, in this cave. And it didn't seem _fair_ of him to ask this instant decision of her right after he'd nearly died in her arms. Marriage was big, it was forever, it shouldn't be decided impetuously, and… if she said yes, she would be signing up for a life _just like this._ Constantly afraid of his safety, constantly afraid of her own _emotional_ safety should something happen to him, fighting and yelling and having to give up a part of herself to receive something of his in return. It meant trust. It meant more than trust, it meant _dependence_. Alice hadn't been dependent since she was _ten_.

But it was Hatter. It was Hatter she would yell at and worry about and depend upon, _and that didn't feel,_ Alice realized, _like a sacrifice._

It felt like a gift.

Her heart was too full to speak and her head was too light to think - she felt like she'd just swallowed something extremely fizzy. All she could do was lean down and take his lips in hers in a hungry, delirious kiss. "Yes," she finally remembered to whisper as their mouths met again and again. "Yes, yes."

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	25. Chapter 25

**A/N:** Sorry about the long wait! The timeline of my next several chapters is really confusing, and I wanted to make sure I had it all straight before moving on, so I could shuffle things around if I needed to. I've had this chapter done for EVER in the meantime, but I figured that taking a pause of yet-undefinable length on such a cliffhanger would be cruel. ^_^ Enjoy!

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_All she could do was lean down and take his lips in hers in a hungry, delirious kiss. "Yes," she finally remembered to whisper as their mouths met again and again. "Yes, yes."_

Hatter's shout of relief was quickly muffled by kisses that deepened with an almost frantic pace, and it was only with extreme reluctance that Alice forced herself apart from him some minutes later.

"_You're_ still wounded," she reminded him breathlessly, face still flushed.

"I'm sure the important parts of me still work," he teased, waggling his eyebrows at her suggestively with a lascivious grin. Alice smacked his knee and he cackled, grabbing the hand before she could reclaim it and kissing the back of it with a loud smacking sound.

"I love you," she said without even thinking about it. The words just rolled right out of her mouth.

Hatter smiled shyly, which was a rather uncommon look for him and one Alice quite liked. He kissed her hand again, softly this time. "I am never going to leave you," he promised, with his big brown eyes locked on her face and his lips ghosting against her fingers as he spoke.

Alice waited as the full meaning of those words sunk in, and found herself sniffling before she even realized that her cheeks were streaked wet with tears. "God, why can't I stop _crying?"_ she half-laughed, half-moaned, wiping at her eyes. Hatter chuckled and swiped a thumb across her cheek.

"It's been a rough coupl'a days," he admitted.

"No sleep," Alice hmphed.

"Breaking up."

"You almost dying."

"And I've always been under the impression that women were _supposed_ to cry when proposed to. Social graces, and what have you."

"Well, it ends here," Alice said, wiping the last evidence of tears from her cheeks. "I mean it, no more crying. It's too exhausting." In an effort to distract herself and unable to stop touching him at the moment, she picked up his hand again, shaking her head at the gauze. "You really punched a _tree?"_

"And then Charlie tried to give me advice on women."

"He _didn't."_

"He did."

"Well, I guess that's two things I have to thank him for, then."

Hatter frowned suddenly and craned his neck toward the back of the cave. "Where _is_ that crazy old goat, anyway?" His eyes widened, suddenly realizing something else that had gone missing. "And my _hat!"_

"Charlie's napping and your hat's over by my sleeping bag," Alice snapped irritably, pushing him back down again. "And I _told_ you to stay down! It's only been a few hours, your wounds could still open up again, and I'd like to have a 24-hour gap between near-death experiences for once, thank you."

Hatter rolled his eyes dramatically and opened his mouth as if to comment, but then his mouth snapped shut and his head whipped to the mouth of the cave. "Did you hear that?" he asked sharply.

Alice immediately went tense and followed his gaze, with the sinking feeling that her simple request for peace was not in the cards. They hadn't heard a thing from that bird the entire time they'd been in here, but what she was hearing now wasn't the head-splitting sonic waves they had run from. It sounded more like the rustling of bushes and branches, underneath which she could halfway make out a rhythmic, clopping sound like horse hooves. She put Hatter's hand down and moved as if to stand.

"Alice!" he whispered urgently, fidgeting desperately trying to hold her down. "Don't—"

"Don't you dare move a muscle!" she scolded with a wild look in her eyes, carefully sidestepping over to the campfire where Charlie's sword lay next to his drying armor. "I just need something to defend—"

But she wasn't quick enough. A final, louder rustling noise and a large, Palomino horse came into view. Alice could see a rider sitting tall, but couldn't make out the details as her eyes struggled against the bright lights of the outside world. The rider dismounted with a huge sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank God," the Duchess' voice echoed back to them, with no small sigh of relief. "I finally found you!"

* * *

..

From his hidden perch, Lory watched with keen interest as the Duchess found the cave and carefully crept inside, her hands up in front of her in supplication. Scree fidgeted, eager for her first kill since captivity. Lory was inclined to give it to her, but he reigned himself in and nudged her gently with his foot. "Not now," he cooed. "We don't have the girl yet, remember sweetie. Besides..." He nodded at the place where the Duchess had last stood and smiled. "I want to see what the little Queen is up to."

* * *

..

"I've been riding for two days looking for you," the Duchess' voice echoed back to them, with no small sigh of relief.

Alice blinked rapidly, still squinting into the daylight. "…Duchess? Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me," she said, holding up her hands in a classic I'm-not-going-to-hurt-you gesture. "No tricks, I swear."

"What are you doing here?" Alice asked, stepping forward and bringing her into their circle of campfire. "Are you all by yourself? Where's Jack?"

The Duchess' expression tightened. "Jack's the reason I'm here, actually. I think… I think something's gone wrong." She moved as if to sit by the fire, but caught sight of Hatter and jerked away, making a strange sort of wheezing noise. "Oh God, Hatter, what happened to you?"

"Nice to see you, too," he said with a raised eyebrow, somewhat insulted by the way she kept inching away from him. "I got hurt, that's all. What's wrong with _you?"_

"I have a… thing… with blood," she said, sounding quite faint.

Alice sighed. She looked at Duchess with obvious disbelief. "Really?"

"Well, it's not like I've had much exposure to it!" Duchess snapped. It was true – the only blood Duchess had ever really seen was the fake blood they used on movie sets, or when she occasionally cut herself shaving, or from a papercut. Seeing evidence of such a large quantity of it… she could feel her stomach turning. "I don't suppose he could… go somewhere else?"

"No," the two of them said in unison. "He's got to stay in one place for the Liffaleaf to heal," Alice explained. "Duchess, can't you just… turn your back on it?"

Duchess shook her head frantically. "No. Now that I know it's there… ugh, I can _smell_ it…" she looked pleadingly at Alice. "Can't we go to the front of the cave or something? Where the fresh air is?"

Alice sighed and looked down at Hatter, who was looking at the Duchess with an exasperated look she knew well – it was often pointed at _her._ "I need to hear what she's got to say," she explained.

Hatter nodded. "Fine. Fill me in when you get back. I'll still be here," he mumbled with a sour expression.

Alice's mouth tilted in a smile and she leaned down to tousle his hair again. He caught her hand briefly in his and let it slip through his fingers.

(When her back was turned, he propped himself up on his forearms so he could shuffle over to the side just a few inches. It wasn't much, but it was _just_ enough to grab his hat where it lay and plop it back onto his head with a satisfied smirk.)

* * *

..

"Okay, Duchess," Alice prompted, now all business as they walked slowly away from the campfire and towards the cave's opening. "Fill me in. You've come too far for this to be just a social call."

Duchess took a steadying breath, organizing the facts in her head. "Something is definitely wrong with Jack," she said firmly. "Ever since you all left, he's been… well, it's like he's been _possessed."_

"Possessed?" Alice frowned. "By what?"

"I don't know, that's the problem. And it's been getting worse and worse every day, some of the things he's said… and Alice, he looks so _old_ now." She gripped Alice by the shoulders and looked her square in the face. "Alice, whatever it is, I think it's killing him. And I think it has something to do with the Glass breaking."

"Why didn't you just send a letter?"

"It's too dangerous for me to stay at the palace – he's gotten _violent_, Alice. I locked him in the dinner hall so I could get away on Diamond."

"Is he still there?"

"I don't know. I doubt any of the staff would have released him since _I _was the one who locked him in, but he _is _still the King. He might have persuaded one of them to let him out by now."

Alice groaned and rubbed her face roughly, turning away and taking the few extra steps into daylight. It felt good to feel the sun's warmth on her skin after so long in the damp, dark cave. She turned back toward the Duchess, mouth open to ask a question—

But she never got to finish. A giant metal claw had gripped her around the stomach, stealing the breath from her lungs and lifting her into the air quicker than she could gather the breath back to scream.

* * *

..

**_"ALICE!"_**

The Duchess' scream ripped through the cave, echoing off the rocks and raising Hatter instantly upright. He ignored the shooting pains in his side as he bolted to the mouth of the cave, where the Duchess was rising shakily to her feet.

"Where…" Hatter started to ask, but he followed the Duchess' upward gaze and saw Alice's black wave of hair fluttering in the sky, growing ever smaller in the claws of….

His blood turned cold, his gaze turned steely, and he didn't have time to think. He just _ran._

_

* * *

._.

The Duchess hadn't even seen the thing coming – Alice had just taken two steps away, the trees behind her had rustled as though blown by an invisible wind, and then in half a second a giant, silver blur had appeared out of nowhere and whisked Alice up to the sky. The buffeting wind in its wake caught the Duchess by surprise and threw her backwards, knocking the side of her hip _hard_ against the ground. She looked up to the sky in shock as Alice was carried away, growing ever smaller. _**"ALICE!"**_

And then Hatter had shown up and run off, leaving drops of blood in his wake like a morbid trail of bread crumbs. She moaned and turned away quickly, limping her way over to Diamond with as much speed as she could manage. Diamond had reacted instinctively to the sound of her mistresses' scream, standing there alert and ready to be mounted, stamping the ground as if impatient to move.

"Wait!"

The Duchess jumped in surprise, adrenaline still pumping through her system – it had taken a moment to recognize the voice as Charlie's. She'd forgotten that he was even there. "Charlie!" she called to him. "I'll be back in a minute, I've got to—"

"What happened?" he asked. "Such a commotion—"

"Alice was snatched," she said quickly. "I didn't see what did it, I think it was invisible. Hatter went chasing after her, he's… _bleeding_ everywhere, I've got to go—"

"I'm coming too." Charlie's voice was low and clipped, and even though he looked ridiculous climbing up onto Diamond's saddle in his jim-jams, she waited for him to settle in before galloping off.

* * *

..

Pain had been forgotten. Reason, unheeded. Logic had completely fled Hatter's brain. All that mattered was catching up to that silver monster. Trees flickered past him, rocky terrain flying under his feet like he wasn't even touching it. Hatter didn't notice any of it – he was focusing only on Alice's face slowly coming into view as he ran ever faster.

She looked at him with horror as he came closer and closer. _"Hatter!"_ she screamed. _"No, Hatter, no! You've got to stop!"_

"No!" he shouted. "I'm not going to leave you!" She was definitely closer now, he could tell – he could see her face, hear her voice. If he kept up this pace, he'd catch up to that red, half-bird bastard and he'd be there when he landed and…

It was becoming hard to breathe. "I'm not… I'm not going to…" He _hurt._ Everything _hurt._

_"Hatter!"_ Alice cried. _"Your wounds! Hatter, stop, you're going to die!"_

Hatter spared a glance down at his legs and realized that warm, sticky blood was flowing freely down from his sides, running down his legs and staining the dirt even as it rapidly moved under his feet. He shook the sight from his head and kept running. He was close enough to see the whites of her eyes now.

She was scared. Not, he realized, looking at her pleading, terrified expression, for her own personal safety. Even as she was being carried away by a horrible monster, she was only scared for _him. _Against his will, Hatter's vision started to blur and slide. He shut his eyes against the sensation and shook his head. "I don't care!" he bellowed in response, as though he could send away the inevitable with just his voice. "Alice… I'm not…"

_"Please,"_ she pleaded. _"Please, Hatter, you need to let me go!"_

Her face was growing dark, and the pain was growing sharper and stronger. His head… everything was spinning… his fingers were growing numb… Hatter kept trying to run, but his feet were so heavy, and air came so reluctantly… The blood against his cold legs now felt hot enough to burn… And Alice… he had to keep running. That was the only thought he could hold on to. He had to keep _running._ He'd run until he _died,_ if that was what it took.

"Alice…" One foot in front of the other, run, run, run, run, the blood between his toes squishing against the ground. "I promised I would never leave you! And I'm not, I'm… Alice…"

_"Please,_" she begged. _"Please Hatter, I'll be fine and… You're going to die, if you keep running like this!"_ She make a choking sort of sound. Hatter strained to see her face again, but it was all blurry. _"You've got to stop!"_

There was a roaring in his ears. He fixed his gaze on her face, swimming around in front of him, and tried to yell out. She should know better, he thought. She should know that he would always fight to the death, she should know how he'd never stop running, she should know that he'd always meant to teach her how to throw a proper punch, she should know how much he lov—

But the line of trees ended abruptly, the ground in front of him emptied out, and Hatter kicked up clouds of red dust as he stumbled to a stop at the edge of an impossibly steep cliff. Several hundred feet down he could hear the tumbling rush of water, or maybe that was the noise in his head, drowning out all thought as he watched Alice shrink smaller and smaller, flying away in the clutches of that evil, silver bird, and the little red speck on top of it.

Without the movement of relentless pursuit, Hatter's lack of blood caught up to him at a speed he could not fight. He sank to his knees as it hit him like a bullet train, feeling the heat of his own blood against his cold skin as he kneeled in a rapidly expanding puddle of it. "No…" he muttered to himself. He blinked away the oncoming darkness, trying to find Alice's figure again within it. She was in the sky somewhere. He needed to _find_ her, he needed to find out where she was going. "Nooo…"

He screamed.

And then everything went dark.

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	26. Chapter 26

**A/N:** Okay, so I'm uploading this a little earlier than I normally would be (because I usually like to write a couple chapters ahead of my uploading, so I have a que that I can mess around with if I change my mind about something), because I _can't_, on good conscience, leave you with that kind of cliffhanger for long! XD

I really want to thank all the people who've consistently left such lovely reviews - you guys are the reason this fic hasn't just stalled and floated into oblivion. I've got so many other multi-chapter fic ideas that have been tempting my attention, but you guys keep me dedicated to seeing this adventure through. It's about to get crazy, folks, so stick in there! I love, love, love you _all_.

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Duchess and Charlie rode Diamond as fast as the mare could manage through the dense trees. Along the route, Duchess found herself wishing fervently that riding on horseback wasn't _quite_ so bumpy – Hatter's blood was spattered everywhere along the route, and Diamond's bouncy steps were not helping her nausea in the slightest.

At first it was just drops and dribbles in the dirt, forming little connect-the-dots games like in children's books. But soon the trail of blood became a stream… and then puddles… tiny pools collected in the crevasses of roots, and bloody footprints were smeared in the mud. Yet still the trail carried on, blood splashed and smeared across leaves and trunks, the path staggering slightly from side to side.

Duchess tried to swallow the bile she felt rising in the back of her throat.

Then, so suddenly it took a moment for her to register, the trees emptied out and Diamond stumbled to a halt at the edge of a steep ravine. Behind her, she heard Charlie suck in a breath and dismount hurriedly. She reluctantly followed his lead, taking a moment as she dismounted to nuzzle briefly in the respite of Diamond's mane. Steadying herself for the sight of more blood in one place than she had probably seen before in her entire life, she closed her eyes and turned around.

He looked dead, lying there on the ground. For the first, few, horrible seconds, the Duchess thought he _was_ - his skin was stark white, nearly glowing against the dark, dark pool of his own blood growing slowly larger around him. Duchess knew that if she were to go over and touch him, his skin would be cold against her fingertips.

Charlie was – good lord – plucking limp, gloppy clumps out of the blood. "We've got to get these leaves back in him immediately," he muttered. "I haven't got any more to replace them with. I used them all up the first time he got injured!"

His head was turned slightly enough in Duchess' direction that she knew he meant to be talking to her. "What can I do?" she asked shakily, not moving any closer. She had to grip Diamond's mane for support even from this distance – two steps closer and she would probably faint.

"We're going to have to re-sear his wounds, so we'll need a fire," Charlie instructed. "Once it's been started, put the tip of my sword in it and bring it back when it glows red." He reached for the weapon and threw it in her direction – she caught it by the handle. "And the meantime, if you don't mind, milady… I'll need some water."

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..

Hatter was already unconscious, so there was no need for Duchess to hold him down, for which she was eternally grateful. It was all _she_ could do to stay conscious during the process – it would do no good for Charlie to have _two_ prone bodies on his hands. But it did leave her feeling rather useless, standing there while Charlie did all the hard work.

After he had finished with the searing, Duchess helped him move Hatter's body away from the cliff edge, as the dropoff made them all jittery (especially the horses), and they wanted to avoid getting the red, rocky dust in Hatter's wounds. They found a lightly wooded area not too far away and laid him down gently, and Charlie fussed and fluttered over his work, muttering the entire time about how seared wounds were _never_ as good the second time around and this time he'd be lucky to not get infected and it would _certainly_ scar, the fool.

Duchess didn't really know how to respond to these worries, not having much medical expertise herself. For her part, she was just greatful that they had moved away from the smell of blood so that she could think properly. She cast her eyes about the forest and chewed her lip thoughtfully, letting Charlie's worried monologue wash over her without paying much attention. After a moment, she stood up and walked over to a nearby tree that yielded some particularly springy boughs. Taking her knife out of her boot, she cut some of the thinner, longer, bendier ones down into a small pile at her feet.

Charlie stopped chattering and looked over at her from where he sat, mindlessly cleaning off his armor for the second time that day. "May I be of some assistance, milady?" he asked. Duchess returned his bright smile with a dim one of her own and shook her head.

"No need," she responded, "but thank you for asking. I just feel so useless sitting here, I thought I'd make him… well, a little hammock or something. He won't be able to ride a horse like that for awhile, and if we're going to catch up with Alice's kidnapper we don't have time to wait for him to heal."

"Aah!" Charlie interrupted, beaming. "You're _inventing!_ Splendid! I'm quite an expert at that you know – what are you planning to use as binding?"

"Well," Duchess said modestly, dragging her pile of branches over to sit next to him. "I was just thinking I'd weave these together cross-ways. Why, what would you recommend?"

Charlie chuckled, the armor in his hands completely forgotten as he leaned toward the Duchess conspiratorially. She played along, leaning in as well. "Strip the branches _first_," he whispered. "The wood inside that species of branch is the strength, and the bark is the flexibility. If you strip the bark into strips first and use _them_ as your binding—"

Duchess caught on. "You can make the hammock using half as many branches!"

"Exactly!" Charlie preened. "Oh, it's worked for countless Gravity-Assisted Snares, I can tell _you-_"

"Nice to see you two getting so _friendly,_" interrupted Hatter's biting tone. Charlie and Duchess both turned around to look at him in surprise.

"Good lord, how are you _up_ already?" Charlie asked, his face twisted in confusion. He puttered over to where Hatter lay and inspected his wounds. "You young people bounce back so _quickly,_ I must say…"

Hatter let Charlie probe at his sides patiently, but ignored the question. Instead he whispered, in a low, hoarse voice:

"Where's Alice?"

Duchess swallowed nervously. She had been dreading this conversation, but she hadn't expected it so _soon_. "We don't know," she said seriously, "But as soon as we rig up a way to transport you without opening your wounds, we're going to start looking. What did you see, Hatter? Do you have any idea where we can start?"

Hatter didn't stir, didn't speak, didn't blink. He was like a statue, lying there on the ground, all stony silence. His gaze was steadily fixed on the patch of sky just above his head.

"Hatter?" Duchess asked gently. "What did you see?"

A long moment passed in which nobody moved. Then Hatter finally opened his mouth and said, "Charlie, I need a horse."

"Now listen _here,_ harbinger," he scolded, hovering his face over Hatter's and shaking his finger so vehemently that his beard bobbed up and down. "I didn't patch you up again so that you could go tearing off and rip yourself open! I don't care _how_ quickly you heal, it's probably going to take another week now that you've gone and-"

_"Charlie,"_ Hatter repeated, his voice barely hiding an edge of desperation that made Duchess' heart hurt.

"No, you're not getting one," Charlie responded, crossing his arms with a childish air of authority. "You're in absolutely no condition to even _move,_ let alone ride a horse, and you know it! Don't think you can play the martyred hero card either," he pointed out with a sharp finger-jab and a raised eyebrow. "I don't care what you think, you are _not_ the only one that misses her, and you're _not_ only one responsible for her! I was supposed to be her protector," he said, in his old, warbling voice, "and look what happened! You're not the only one feeling guilty."

The two men looked at each other and something _passed_ between them – the Duchess could _feel_ it happen, and she felt wrong witnessing it, like an outsider. One old, world-weary, last-of-his-kind Knight looked into the face of a younger man who, although not a Knight by birth, had the very heart and spirit of one… and _recognized him._ It was a look of understanding, and not only that, but it was the look of two men who felt they had failed someone they both loved, very much.

_Alice is a lucky girl,_ said a small, jealous voice in the back of the Duchess' mind.

She shook the voice away and chimed in, interrupting the moment with some much-needed logic. "Charlie's right," she said. "You're not the only one who wants to find her – we all do, and Alice would never forgive herself if you went out and got yourself hurt in this condition, Hatter, you know that."

Hatter's face flushed an angry red at the sound of her voice and he pointedly ignored her, turning his head away and glaring into the forest with his mouth set in a firm, tight line. He hadn't met Duchess' eye _once_ since he'd woken up, or spoken to her directly, or answered any of her questions, and it was starting to annoy her. Couldn't he see she was only trying to _help? _"Hatter," she tried again, _"where did Alice go?"_

"Like you _don't know!_" Hatter spat with sudden rage, struggling to raise himself up on his elbows despite the obvious pain – he was sweating and shaking before he even had lifted himself halfway up. Charlie was there in a flash pushing him back down again. Still, even from the ground the force of his glare was almost enough to knock Duchess flat. He was looking absolutely _murderous_. "It's too much of a coincidence that _monster_ found us at the exact same time _you _did! It's too much of a coincidence that _you_ led Alice to the mouth of the cave where it could get to her, and within _seconds_ of your arrival! You must have _planned_ this!"

"That… That's _ridiculous!_" Duchess spluttered. "Hatter, how can you _think_ - I don't even know what took her!"

But Hatter wasn't done. "Don't play that game with me," he snarled. "You may have Alice fooled because she hasn't been in Wonderland as long as I have, but _I_ remember! You've been a double agent your whole adult life, workin' for the Queen. You've _never_ been trustworthy! And believe me," he said wryly. "I've known my fair share of double agents, so don't think you can pull the wool over _my_ eyes just by playing innocent! From where I'm standing, I've got _no_ reason to give you the benefit of the doubt. Charlie told us—"

"Oh, _please_ leave me out of this," Charlie moaned, covering his face with his hands and retreating to the edge of their argument. Hatter ignored him.

"Charlie _told_ us that the Royal Family had the Scree captured and in their possession, so there's _no_ way that thing could have gotten out without your knowledge. So _you_ tell _me, Duchess_," he hissed. _"Where did you take her?"_

"The Scree?" she asked faintly. "Oh… oh no… Jack must have… oh no, no, _no,_…"

"What?" Hatter asked as Duchess turned away to lean against a nearby tree for support. _"What?"_

"I was telling Alice before… you know, _before_, when I had to talk to her," Duchess started to explain. "I had to leave the Palace for my own protection. Jack has been acting so _strangely_ lately—"

"Strangely how?" Charlie asked, sounding concerned.

"Well, mood swings," Duchess started, her brow furrowing as she tried to put into words how he'd been acting. "He's stopped his hobbies, he's changed his habits, he's even been shirking some of his _duties_… he looks so _old _now, too. He looks like he's aged about fifteen years in the last two weeks. And he's gotten more violent," she admitted. "That's why I left. He started yelling at me and saying all these _things_-"

"What things?" Hatter asked sharply, taking in every word.

Duchess hesitated, knowing that the news wouldn't be well received. "He talked about Alice a lot," she finally said. "Sometimes I would almost get him to admit that he still loved her and wanted her back—" Hatter's face turned a violent shade of red again, but the Duchess continued hurriedly without giving him the chance to interrupt, "—but it wouldn't sound quite right, and when I questioned him he would change his story and say he loved me, but he sounded like a different _person_. Like I told Alice… it's like he's been _possessed_ or something, ever since the mirror broke. I locked him away, but he must have convinced one of the staff to let him out and then…" She clenched her fist. "I shouldn't have left!" she moaned. "I should've stayed to keep an eye on him, but I seemed to be the only one who could tell that there was something _wrong…_"

"_That's_ why I kept getting attacked," Hatter muttered. "He knew I was protecting her so he tried to take me out… and then when that didn't work, he just swept in and _kidnapped_ her!" He roared in frustration, slamming his fist futilely against the ground with a force that shook the dirt under the Duchess' feet.

Meanwhile, Charlie's allegiance was torn. Technically, as a Knight, was sworn to defend the King and Queen against, you know… _treason_, even if it was one of his closest comrades in the world and one-half of the royal family that was committing it. He shifted his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably, unsure as to whether or not he should intervene. Feeling momentarily at a loss and wishing for a distraction, _any_ distraction, he glanced off into the forest.

A small, dark shape caught his eye. It looked to him almost like a _human_ figure, maybe a _child_. He squinted into the dark shade and thought he saw, maybe, a glimmer of dirty gold.

_No, _he thought. _It can't be._

He blinked. She was still there. He rubbed his eyes, and still she did not disappear. He could even see a blurry hand waving in his direction, like she wanted him to come close.

"Hope?" he whispered.

An inexplicable feeling rose in his chest, catching his breath and making him feel rather light-headed. She _said_ they'd meet again. He should have believed her.

And, forgetting entirely where he was, he left his two companions to argue amongst themselves and slipped off into the woods.

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	27. Chapter 27

**A/N:** Hope you all had a happy holiday season! Hard to believe it's been just over a whole year since "Alice" first aired. XD This is the longest I've ever stayed writing in a fandom... it's really a special little fic community, and it's because of sweet readers like you and all the other talented authors on . X3 Enjoy the chapter!

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..

Alice felt hopeless, _helpless_, to do anything but watch as Hatter reached the edge of the cliff and suddenly collapsed in a pool of his own blood. "No," she whispered under her breath, her voice hoarse from all the futile yelling and pleading she had done in trying to get Hatter to save himself. _"No, nooo…"_

_What was wrong with him? _She thought with sudden heat, seizing the anger and concentrating on that rather than the fear that was fighting for dominance. _Stupid, recklessly brave shows of chivalrous idiocy… you'd think he would have learned from that whole thing where he tried riding in on a horse, and got himself captured and tortured, that IDIOT. Didn't he trust that she could take care of herself in the meantime? While he came up with a decent plan?_

_Didn't he know how much more she had to lose by him dying?_

_Well,_ she tried to convince herself, still fuming, _Charlie will take care of him. Charlie isn't going to let Hatter die. He won't. He's going to be FINE, he'd better be fine, and in the meantime I'm going to get out of here, and then I'm going to kill him myself for doing this to me._

With renewed vigor, Alice turned her anger at Hatter towards pounding the Scree's claws with all the strength she possessed, squirming madly in its grip. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you," a deep voice called out to her with relish. "It's a long way down from here, and I'd hate to lose you. I've got a _delivery_ to make, and I'm afraid the instructions were to take you in one piece."

Alice squirmed a little more, trying better to see her captor. Eventually she twisted herself around enough to see his face and arms through the flapping wings. Her first thought was that she didn't recognize him at all – the business suit reminded her of Mad March, but this was definitely a different man… if he _was_ a man. The red-feathered body made it difficult to tell if he was man or beast.

Her second thought was that, whatever he was, he was in very. Big. _Trouble._

"Where are you taking me?" she yelled. "Who are you taking me _to?_" He didn't answer, which was just what she'd expected.

She tried a different tactic. "Why did you do that to Hatter?" His head tilted in her direction, indicating his interest. "You could have just swiped me up and carried me off," she continued. "Why did you have to fly so low to the ground? Were you _intending_ to kill him?"

"Well, I can't have anyone trying to _rescue_ you now, can I?" he replied with a cocked eyebrow and the barest hint of a smirk. "Heroes are so _bothersome._ Besides, I've been trying to kill him for _ages_ now. That little roach just won't quit, will he? Anyways, it was fun, you know – giving him that last little parting shot. Like old times."

Alice was practically seeing red by this point, and she focused on that anger to keep from noticing how very, very high she was dangling and moving at very, very fast speeds. "I'm going to make sure you pay for this," she yelled up to him. She could hear a deep, throaty chuckle in response.

"On the contrary," he said, "I think you'll find that I'm _being_ paid for this. Which reminds me…" Alice could feel the vibrations of his footsteps as he climbed down to where she was held. She renewed her struggles, knowing that if she could just get a good grip on him… but the Scree held her fast. No matter how desperately she squirmed, the red bird-man still tied a blindfold around her with the laziness of a person gift-wrapping a present. "I don't mean to make you unnecessarily uncomfortable," he said with a hint of irony, and his voice was so unexpectedly close to her ear that Alice winced. "But don't worry," he continued, "We're almost there."

Alice needed a deep, calming breath at this ominous statement, relieved to feel his footsteps climbing away from her and returning to their previous position on the Scree's back. The blindfold did little to help her nausea – in her mind's eye she could still imagine surface of the lake whooshing past, the pointed treetops of forest burring in a green smudge along its perimeter, making her feel like she was going to vomit, or faint, or both. She clamped down on those thoughts as quickly as she could – she needed all her wits about her if she wanted to think. For all her squirming and fighting, the bird and its rider did not seem fazed in the slightest, so the rest of her trip would have to be spent trying to come up with a plan.

But before she could even collect a mental list of any bargaining chips she had in her possession, he could feel the shift in the wind that marked their descent, and her stomach lurched. Wherever it was the beast was taking her to… they had arrived.

* * *

..

The Prince paced where he was, circling briskly around the large fountain in the center of the Hedge Maze. He knew this was the best place for the drop-off, which was why he had suggested it the morning Lory had left for his commission. After all, now that he was riding the Scree, the two of them could no longer meet in the Great Hall without causing something of a fuss. Jack checked his watch irritably, impatient to have his hands washed of the whole situation – he had more important things to worry about than an insubordinate assassin and a target who refused to die.

A sudden gust of wind against his neck was all the warning he had before the Scree swooped down and landed neatly on top of the fountain in front of him, its huge body perched as neatly as if it had been weightless. Lory climbed down with the speed and agility of practice, plucking a large blue bundle from the Scree's claws and tucking it under his arm as he descended.

At the sudden release, Alice wriggled and kicked wildly. One of her booted feet connected with the back of Lory's right knee, and when he cried out and buckled under the impact she managed to break free from his grasp, roughly shoving the blindfold away from her eyes. She instantly broke into a run, going as far as two strides, three… but Lory rebounded from the ground after only a single second's recovery time, and with one eerily superhuman leap, he managed to lay a hand across the back of Alice's neck, at that knobbly place where the spine meets the neck. He was moving too fast for Jack to see what he did, but a moment later Alice crumpled to the ground with a small cry – she lay there, limbs askew, perfectly still.

The whole time, Jack did nothing but watch, his mouth twisted in distaste. "Care to explain that little display?" he asked coldly. "I hope you haven't gone and killed her, after all the trouble I went to to _bring_ her here."

"Oh, she's alive, just unconscious. Easier and quicker for Scree to just pick her up than it is for me to stop and bind her. Too troublesome. She'll be back to normal in about twenty minutes or so," he said, dropping the bundle – Alice – on the ground a few feet away. "Let it never be said that I didn't think of the details."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Indeed."

"Yes. Might I mention, I found your _wife_ stumbling about the woods?"

Jack's nostrils flared as he sucked in a wary breath. "The woods? You're certain it was her?"

"Of _course_ I'm sure," Lory answered dryly. "She headed straight for miss Alice and her companions – unsurprising, really, she probably thought they were her only remaining allies."

"Go back and kill her," Jack ordered with an impatient wave of his hand. "She betrayed me, and as a traitor to the crown she is sentenced to death, effective immediately. Kill the companions, too," he added. "They're just potentially bothersome distractions, now."

Lory smiled and inclined his head. "Yes, sir. And then I'm free to go, like we agreed?"

Jack's eyes narrowed. "Remember, now, if you relinquish my service you have no longer have any immunity from the law."

Lory quirked an eyebrow, but the smile remained on his face and he said nothing. Jack sighed reluctantly. "Other than that, yes," he admitted. "You are free to go once you kill the rest of her group."

"Consider it done," Lory said. A moment later, he and the Scree had both vanished into the skyline, leaving the Hedge Maze without so much as a ruffled leaf in their wake – only his single, signature feather sitting innocently on the ground. With some measure of satisfaction, Jack ground it into the dirt with his foot as he made his way over to the fountain. He casually reached over to a cherub with outstretched arms and rang the bell that hung there - a Spade would be summoned directly to escort him out of the center of the maze. While he waited…

Jack folded his hands and looked down at Alice. Her dark blue top and jeans were scuffed and dirty, her black hair hopelessly tangled in its ponytail. Even with her face smudged in the dirt, he still thought she was somehow beautiful. Unable to resist, he walked over and knelt down, brushing his fingers over the sliver of exposed skin on the back of her neck. He sighed and shuddered a bit at the sensation rocketing up his arm, calming his nerves and energizing him all at once.

_Too long, _he thought. _It's been far too long._

A Spade came around a corner and jumped a bit in surprise at finding the King kneeling there on the ground. "Sire," he said, but his gaze shifted over to Alice in obvious confusion.

"Take the Lady Alice back to the Palace and make sure she's kept comfortable," Jack ordered briskly, sidestepping any opportunity for questions. "No one is to go in… or _out_… of her room until I speak with her, do you understand me?"

The Spade nodded, eyes wide, and scooped Alice up in his arms. "Of course, your Majesty," he said. "No one in or out. I'll make sure of it. Would you like me to send for another escort for yourself, your Maj-"

"_Go!_" Jack shouted, and the Spade shut his mouth with an audible _click_ and scurried away. Jack rubbed his temples tiredly with the tips of his fingers, trying to compose himself. After a minute, he started his own way back to the castle – Lory said she wouldn't be out long, and he didn't want to be late for their _meeting_.

* * *

..

Back at the edge of the Tulgey Wood, Hatter and Duchess didn't even notice Charlie slipping off into the forest – they were far too embroiled in their own conflict.

"I still can't believe that Jack would let the Scree go," the Duchess was saying, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Well, is there any way the thing could have escaped?" asked Hatter.

Duchess shook her head sadly. "No, but Jack would _never_… not in his right _mind…_ I mean, as far as I know we've got no way to _control _it, that's why we locked it up."

"Well then, who's that red-feathered bastard?" Hatter asked the Duchess, as though the thought had just occurred to him. "The one riding the Scree, the one controlling it. Who is he?"

"What? Red feathers…? I have no idea," she said honestly. "Jack always told me there was no one who could control the Scree, _no_ one." The confusion was starting to overwhelm her and, with a mournful cry, she buried her face in her hands. "I can't believe this is happening, this_ shouldn't _be happening, I'm the _Queen_, god_dammit_!"

"You're expecting me to believe that you don't know anything about _any_ of this?" Hatter tried to make sure every word in that sentence _dripped_ with sarcasm.

Duchess dropped her hands and glared fiercely at him. "_Yes!_" she yelled. "Don't you see, Hatter? We have _both_ been being lied to! How has all of this been happening right under my nose?"

But whatever Hatter had been about to say in response was interrupted by a loud, piercing shriek that shook their bones and rang in their ears. He felt the bottom of his stomach – or what was left of it – sink.

"It's the Scree, it's come back," he shouted at the Duchess, shaking his head to try and make the residual dizziness stop. "We've got to hide!"

"Where?" she asked, looking like she was having a harder time than Hatter at shaking away the side effects of the screech – she was bent over double, a hand at her forehead. "We can't move you when you're like this, not without opening your wounds for a _third-!"_

Hatter groaned. "Forget the wounds, I can handle it! Charlie will just seal them shut again, we've got to _get out!"_

Duchess looked like she was going to argue, but just as she opened her mouth the ground underneath them rumbled and cracked, the trees of their sides bowed against the force of the wind – and the huge, silver bird landed next to them with a _thud_ and a hungry, vicious look in its eye.

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	28. Chapter 28

**A/N:** This chapter is dedicated to all of you who read, reviewed, and reminded me that the fandom was not dead. :) Without a doubt, this chapter would not have been written without you. HEARTS, HEARTS, HEARTS.

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...

Looking up at the silver beast from where he lay, stretched out on the ground like a free meal, Hatter felt an entirely unfamiliar, demoralizing, _crippling_ sense of…_helplessness_. He'd been in trouble before, but never without an escape route, never without a plan. "Duchess," he stammered, his thoughts whizzing at ten miles a minute trying to come up with something, anything...

…but he was distracted by the sound of stretching leather and the rasping pull of a crossbow.

"Hatter," the Duchess said seriously, not taking her eyes off the Scree as she prepared her aim, "Don't you dare move a _muscle_."

Hatter's jaw dropped. Had she been carrying that thing the _entire time?_ "Wha…?"

"I am _still_ the Queen of Wonderland," she said loudly, so that the red-feathered man on top of the Scree could hear her. "And I demand that you tell me your name and business, _sir._" The crossbow was shaking slightly in her hand and she was breathing rather hard, but her gaze remained firm and her aim remained steadily on the bird-man as he straightened up and folded his hands in front of him in a business-like manner.

Now that he was closer to their eye level than ever before, Hatter drank in the sight of him, sizing him up, trying to remember every detail so he wouldn't miss a trick. It was an old skill from his Resistance days, but some talents never fade, and Hatter had learned early the importance of knowing thy enemy. What he found here didn't surprise him – the bastard's business suit was rather like March's had been in that it was black, crisp, clean, and perfectly tailored in a way that earned Hatter's immediate disgust. Not just anyone could afford clothes like that in Wonderland. This guy had either come from money, or worked _for_ people with money. Hatter would've bet his best hat that it was the latter.

But his _eyes_… pupil-less, just ice-blue irises gazing out from beneath his red-feathered brow. Sharp and cold, expressionless and unforgiving, keeping secrets and seeing everything but giving nothing away. Those were the eyes of a killer, Hatter knew it instantly – and from the self-assured way he stared down the pointy end of the Duchess' crossbow, this guy was very, _very_ good at what he did.

"Not that I owe you anything," the man sighed, "but my name is Lory. And, as you can see," he sneered, "_Alice_ isn't here."

Hatter's face flushed with anger at the mention of Alice's name and he tried to raise himself back up on his elbows, but the Duchess sent him a glare so livid that it stopped him in his tracks. She was, after all, still holding that crossbow with her finger on the trigger. "Why are you here?" Duchess demanded, turning her gaze back to Lory. The arm holding her crossbow was now rock-steady, all hint of tremor gone. "Is it a ransom that you're looking for?"

He chuckled. "Oh, no," he said. "Nothing like _that._ Ransoms aren't really my style. No, I'm simply carrying through the terms of my contract." He didn't wait for a reply before bending his face close to the Scree's head.

"Go ahead, girl," he chuckled. "Have fun."

Duchess' eyes widened in alarm and she pulled the trigger, but a moment too late – the arrow speared only the single feather Lory left behind as he disappeared. Nevertheless, galvanized by his masters' command, the Scree stamped the ground and straightened up afresh to its full height, flapping its great wings and taking to the air.

Hatter yelped, trying to scoot himself away using only his arms and not being very successful. What he would have _given_ for the use of his legs. "Duchess, come on! Help me out!" He groaned. "_Hello,_ I am _literally_ a sitting duck here!"

"Relax, Hatter!" Duchess snapped, her crossbow already reloaded and aimed toward the sky. "This Scree is the _royal family's_ captive, which makes him _my_ responsibility, and _I_ am going to bring it down."

"Don't be an idiot. This thing can take you out from fifty feet, just with its voice! And it ran _me_ straight through without even touching the ground-"

"I'm not going to run from my responsibilities," she said firmly. She fired another shot, which missed the Scree's wing by about a yard.

Hatter slammed his fist futilely against the ground. "Aim for the eyes, at least," he offered desperately. "It's the only place I can see that isn't armored!"

"True," Duchess said, drawing a thicker, longer bow out of her bag and loading it. "But it's not its sight that I'm worried about."

Before Hatter could ask what she _was_ worried about, then, if it wasn't the humongous, murderous, armored bird circling above them, the Scree opened its mouth and let out a long, almost victorious-sounding scream. Hatter's bones shook in a now-familiar pain, and the Duchess cried out, nearly dropping her crossbow as she tried to protect her ears from the onslaught. Hatter peeked through wincing eyes just in time to see the Scree taking its opportunity to dive…

"DUCHESS!" he bellowed through the ringing in his ears.

Still bent over double from the pain, Duchess halfway straightened and shot haphazardly at the swiftly approaching creature. Hatter didn't even hear her pull the trigger – all he saw was the Scree's neck suddenly _explode into flame._

"Whoa!" Hatter shouted, his eyes wide. The Scree ceased its dive and took off back into the sky, trailing thick, black clouds of smoke.

"Yes!" Duchess shrieked and threw her hands up in victory. "Did you _see_ that?" she turned to Hatter ecstatically. "_Tell_ me you saw that! I wasn't even i_ooking!_"

He nodded dumbly. "How did you _do_ that?"

"Exploding arrows," she said, grabbing another one. "I stuck a few in my bag, just in case. I'd like to see that thing screech at us now that its _throat_ is on fire! Hold on, I'm going to bring it down." She loaded it into her crossbow and rose to take aim –

But the Scree had vanished.

There was a long moment of silence between them.

"Did it just _disappear?_" Hatter whispered.

"I think it can turn invisible," Duchess whispered in response.

_"What?"_

"I'm pretty sure, yeah. That's how it was able to take Alice without warning like that."

"…_Fuck."_

They both paused, on the knife's edge. The world was still – only the soft rustling of wind in the trees and the splashing of some far-off river. Hatter could hear the creak of Duchess' hands tightening on the handle of her crossbow.

He saw a cluster of leaves shake madly out of the corner of his eye. "Left!" he barked. The Duchess spun on her heel at the ready, but she was still too late. The Scree barreled straight into her, a forceful body-check that sent her flying off to the side as if she were weightless. She slammed _hard_ into the trunk of a tree and fell, crumpled, to the ground.

"Duchess!" Hatter shouted. At the sound of his voice, she stirred and coughed ever-so-slightly. Hatter scanned the ground, looking for the crossbow that had flown out of her hands upon impact.

He spotted it on the ground only about five feet away from where he lay.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, ignoring the sweating and shaking that began almost instantly at the effort. Inch by inch, he dug his elbows into the ground and _dragged_ the rest of his body towards his prize.

Moving was torturous — the soft dirt shifted and sunk under his elbows, providing little traction, and the pain in his sides was blinding beyond description. He felt as though he would look down at any minute and find the lower half of his body right where he'd left it, having literally ripped himself apart.

Inch, by inch, by inch… He dragged himself along until his arms were shaking so violently he could go no more. Gasping for breath, he noted with some contempt that the crossbow seemed just as far now as it had before. But Hatter's arms were long. _Surely,_ he thought, _surely I've gone far enough?_

He stretched out his arm, fingers spread desperately wide, but hitting only air. He took a deep breath and heaved himself back up on his elbows. _A few inches. Just a few more inches…!_

Over to his side, he heard the sounds of Duchess getting to her hands and knees. She was clutching her ribs and sucking in short, gasping breaths. "Hatter…" she moaned. "Hatter, the Scree—"

He spared a moment to look. The Scree, now voiceless and with one singed wing, it was struggling to gain enough air to fly above the trees and make a second dive. Judging by the look in its eyes, though, Hatter had no doubt who the next target was. The Duchess had proved herself to be troublesome prey — by comparison, Hatter was an easy meal for the injured bird, and it would only be a matter of time until it gained enough air to make the attempt. Powered by that gruesome thought, Hatter screwed his eyes tight and made one last heave before collapsing back into the ground, breathing heavily. Once more he stretched out his arm —

—there was a crash of leaves as the Scree broke through the trees at last —

—every joint in his arm felt like it was going to leap from its socket, he was straining so hard to reach, just the barest fingertip was all he needed —

—the Duchess was calling out to him in warning, the Scree was coming straight towards him, but neither of them had the strength to run—

—and with a gasp of relief, he finally brushed the wooden bow with his fingertips and scrambled to pull it towards him. There was no time to throw it to the Duchess. He took aim at the Scree only yards away from where he lay on the ground, held the bow firmly with both hands, and pulled the trigger.

It missed, grazing the wing by only a hair's breadth, but it was enough to scare the Scree into swooping away. Hatter sighed in relief and dropped his head back against the ground, but his elation was short-lived.

"Hatter," Duchess groaned, limping a few steps over to him with one hand clasping her ribcage. She dropped to one knee a few yards away, claiming her breath. "Are you okay?"

The wounds in his sides throbbed horribly, upset at being forgotten. "I'll get back to you on that," he winced. "And I think your bow's broken," he said. Now that he could regain focus, he could feel the wood splintering under his hands, most likely a result of having a two-tonne monster crash into it. It had probably been a miracle that the final arrow had fired at all. "You got any other tricks I should know about?"

Duchess shook her head. "No. You? You must have traveled with weapons, right?"

"Well, we weren't exactly expecting to fight for our _lives_ every day," Hatter shot back. He wracked his brain, trying to think of anything useful… "Charlie's sword! Where's his sword?"

Duchess' eyes widened. "Where's _Charlie_?"

Hatter felt a wave of guilt that he hadn't noticed the Knight's absence sooner, but survival instinct pushed it aside as the Scree's humongous body crash-landed once more in the clearing before them. "We'll find him later!" he spluttered. "Just get his sword!"

Duchess scrambled away, tripping all over herself on the shaky ground as the Scree thrashed about, trying once more to get back in the air on its one good wing. She didn't have much time, she knew — eventually it would be airborne again, and out of her reach. She clasped the hilt of Charlie's sword, laying beside the rock they had been sitting on only an hour ago.

She ran with a sudden burst of speed into the clearing, cracked ribs forgotten, the blade foreign and heavy in her hand but no less deadly as she sliced it aimlessly through the air with a warrior's cry. The Scree flinched backwards to avoid her onslaught, trying to scramble away, to take flight, emitting rasping, bubbling sounds from its wounded throat. Duchess struggled momentarily with a twinge of pity — it was just so _pathetic_ and _helpless_ lying there — but it occurred to her that the instant Lory returned, the Scree would be back killing Wonderlanders again without restraint.

She couldn't allow that to happen to her people.

Duchess feinted to the left and then lunged, blade falling in a downward arc that sunk into the monster's desperately flapping wing. Sparks flew up where the blade scraped against the metal feathers, doing little damage but pinning the beast to the ground. The Scree made a thin, rasping cry of anger and pain. Duchess didn't give it the time to regroup — she rushed forward, running up the slope of the Scree's wing to settle on it's back, right behind an exposed patch of neck where Lory normally stood.

_Bingo,_ she thought.

The Scree was bucking madly, trying to throw off its unwanted rider, and Duchess knew she'd have to be quick or be thrown off. She clung onto its body with her knees, ignoring the way the Scree's metallic feathers dug into her skin even through her momerath-hide pants. Clutching Charlie's sword tightly with both hands, she brought the blade up high above her head and pointed it directly at the exposed skin.

"Off with your head," she muttered, bringing the blade down with as much force as she could muster.

Silver blood gushed from the wound, unexpectedly cold, like ice water spilling over her hands. The Scree made a final, wheezing sound and collapsed to the ground. The Duchess tumbled off and crawled away quickly to avoid getting crushed by the rest of the gigantic body as it rolled onto its side and lay there, still.

There was a long moment where the only sound in the clearing was the panting of the Duchess' labored breathing. Then, the squishing of her boots against the blood-moistened ground as she rose and tugged Charlie's sword free of the Scree's neck.

"Duchess?" Hatter's voice floated towards her as though from a distance, sounding slightly panicked and extremely irritated. "Duchess, are you okay? I can't _see_ anything!"

"Yeah," she called out. "Yeah, I'm fine." She turned her back on the corpse and jogged back to where Hatter lay, looking down at him with a sigh. "The Scree is dead," she said simply.

Hatter took one look at her, wisps of blonde hair flying astray from its braid, a stripe of mud across her cheek. Her red and black attire was splattered with gleams of silver, her right hand firmly grasping a muddied sword… and through all this, or maybe _because_ of it, Hatter was momentarily struck dumb. She looked like a wild warrior woman, a valkyrie, something straight out of legend.

And in that instant, Hatter understood why Jack had fallen in love with her.

"How did you learn how to _do_ that?" he asked, incredulous.

Duchess took a deep breath and sunk Charlie's sword into the dirt, stripping off her silver-soaked gloves. "I'm the Queen," she said in a voice that was only barely shaking. She threw her ruined gloves to the ground with a _squish_ and sat down on a rock, rubbing her face with tired hands. She could feel the adrenaline rush starting to ebb away, leaving the forgotten pain in her ribs to grow insistently. "I need to know how to defend my people."

There was an awkward pause.

"I think I owe you an apology," Hatter said — suddenly, fumblingly contrite.

Duchess peeked at him through tired fingers and shook her head. "No," she said. "You don't. Not really."

"I shouldn't have accused you of those things—"

"But if I had been in your place, and it had been _Jack_ that was taken," she interrupted, "I would have had the exact same suspicions, I promise you. Really," she said, looking right at him so he'd know she was sincere. "I understand."

He relaxed. "Thanks."

"Especially since…" she hesitated, looking pained. "Being parted from my _husband_ is the worst feeling I could ever have imagined, Hatter. There's a promise to spend your life with someone, and protect them, and love them through thick and thin, and then it all just… slips through your fingers." She sighed. "I feel like… oh Hatter, we need to _save_ him."

He swallowed the humongous lump that had appeared in his throat, thinking of Alice, and the promises they had only just made now scattered in a zillion broken pieces. "Yeah," he agreed in a strangled voice. "Yeah, I think I know what you mean."

The Duchess looked at him inquisitively, but both of their attentions were suddenly distracted by Charlie clanking noisily through the bushes nearby. "Charlie!" she exclaimed, getting up to meet him.

"Where have you been?" asked Hatter.

Charlie just beamed at the two of them. "Well, don't you look splendid, Duchess," he said, indicating her sliver splotches. "I've always thought that silver attire was extremely fashionable, myself." He ignored her dumbfounded look and turned to Hatter. "I've got someone I want you to meet," he said proudly. He shifted to the side and revealed a small girl with ratty blonde hair. She waved at them shyly, and a large brown beaver at her feet chittered at them intelligently in greeting.

"Duchess, Hatter," Charlie said grandly, waving his hand with an extra flourish. "This is Hope."

...


End file.
